


Russian Roulette

by AtreyuAuryn



Category: Mega Man (Cartoon 1994), Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Characters Are Emotionally Stunted Idiots, Cossack Bots as family, Emotional Manipulation, Eye Trauma, Gen, In Media Res, Non-Graphic Torture, abusive parent but like, it's RS Wily so, modern day AU, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 58,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25754263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtreyuAuryn/pseuds/AtreyuAuryn
Summary: Four prison walls reinforced with titanium. Two federal agents seeking the truth. One rogue robot imprisoned for an unspeakable crime.Proto Man has one last chance to tell the truth of what happened that night. One last chance to confess before they shut him off for good.Will he take it?
Relationships: Blues | Proto Man & Kalinka, Blues | Proto Man/Kalinka, TW for blood and gore descriptions, enemies to friends - Relationship, light sexual tension in that teenage way, mostly I ship these two x therapy tbh, platonic - Relationship
Comments: 73
Kudos: 50





	1. Prologue

It’s the walls that really get to him. Four plain steel walls, reinforced with thin strips of titanium on the inside, a camera in each corner to capture him at all angles. They really ought to make it thicker, but there’s no worry of him getting out—even if he could get his arms out of the restrictive casings that keep them pinned behind his back, even if he could free himself from the shackles keeping him locked to the chair, he could only guess at how many guards were between him and freedom, how thicker that titanium got the closer he was to freedom.

They weren’t worried about him getting out. They were worried about what could get _in_.

The walls don’t get to him because they were impenetrable. They get to him because they were _boring_. Soundproof and solid, not a scratch on them, nothing to focus on besides the cameras, and he doesn’t like looking at those. He isn’t near enough to any of the walls to catch his own reflection, but he knows what he would see. No armor. They disabled that, dressed him in gray khaki, pants and a shirt. Left him with nothing to cover his eyes but his hair, not as wild as his brother’s, but still unruly enough to keep his face hidden if he kept his head down.

They left him with nothing to cover his neck. There’s nothing he can do about that, but it bugs him nearly as much as the walls did. He feels vulnerable and exposed, and as irrational as is, cold. He catches himself shivering sometimes, though there’s nothing to cause it, no sudden drop in temperature or system error. Just those four walls, and his own thoughts. 

Maybe he’s malfunctioning. Maybe he always was malfunctioning, damaged goods from the start, never meant to be activated. The fault of his failed guidance system, those ethical programs that never kicked in. He knows that’s what they think, the human guards in the halls, the general public braying for blood (not that he had any). His siblings, the doctors, all of them.

They’re all right. He should have been junked long before any of this could happen. He should be junked now.

He wasn’t conscious when they brought him here. He doesn’t know who washed off the blood or took away everything that was his. They didn’t even leave him powered on at first, waking him only to ask questions he wouldn’t answer, shutting him off when they were done like one would a drone. He doesn’t know who put a stop to that, though he suspects it was Dr. Light, thinking it would help.

It doesn’t help. He cycles through hours of awareness with nothing but those damn walls and watching cameras. He sleeps. Sometimes he dreams. He doesn’t like dreaming. Who _did_ that, anyway, made a robot who could dream? What purpose did that serve, other than to give him glimpses of what he couldn’t have, what he threw away?

Dr. Light again, probably. He never had anything against the old man before, but there were days when he woke with a sob, ripped from a fake reality where everything was still okay—days he wished it had been Light’s blood, Light’s lifeless body, still smoking from his blue lightning blast—

No. This isn’t Dr. Light’s fault. He shouldn’t follow those thoughts too far. They won’t drive him insane, not like Wily. His programming is complex, but not complex enough to snap in those odd little human ways. He wouldn’t start cackling to himself or find some invisible elves to talk to. Robots don’t break like people did.

Or maybe they do. If they leave him here long enough, maybe he would find out.

The cops come for their weekly interview, as they always do. He never answers their questions. He doesn’t know why they bother. It’s the newer set, an older white man with gray streaks in his hair and a permanent scowl, and a young East Asian woman with dyed red hair and a friendly face.

Grumpy and Pepper. He forgot their real names. No, that isn’t true. That’s another thing robots don’t do, forget something as simple as a name. He refuses to acknowledge they _had_ names. He never speaks to them, never reacts to their questions, never even lifts his head. At least their predecessors had the decency to know they were wasting their time. They knew the game, same as he did. Get in, read off the script, get out before they made the mistake of thinking the thing in front of them that looked like a teenage boy wasn’t anything other than a ruthless machine.

But these two, they irritate. Don’t give up, no matter how repetitive the questions get. Have reputations to make, maybe, or a hefty amount of money from the dirtiest rag out there for all the juicy details. It isn’t like there was going to be a trial.

An execution, maybe. Not a trial.

They bring in their equipment—table, chairs, coffee—and settle in their positions. Grumpy Gus shuffles his papers loudly, creased and coffee stained, and clears his throat. Pepper Cop looks a little less upbeat today, no smile, her eyes on her partner more than usual. Good, maybe they would finally burn out and leave him the hell alone.

Sure. And maybe Wily would be declared sane and handed an official pardon from the president.

“No point in preamble,” Grumpy says, slapping the papers down. “You know why we’re here.”

No answer.

“You’re running out of time to explain yourself,” Pepper says, knitting her hands together. “You realize that, right? This is your last chance to tell us what happened.”

Nothing.

Grumpy pulls out a—a tape recorder? Who the hell still has a tape recorder? That thing should be in a _museum_. It’s almost enough to get him to lift his head for a closer look, but he doesn’t. A stupid prop, nothing more. All of this is some stupid stage show, put on for whoever watches those cameras.

None of it matters. None of it will undo what he did.

Grumpy sets it on the table and turns it on with a click. He can hear the ancient machine whirl to life, tape slowly spinning. Shit, maybe Grumpy was the one who belongs in a museum. He sure dresses like he ought to be in another century, suspenders and all.

“Agents Gilbert Stern and Roslyn Krantz, recording the seventeenth attempt at this interview,” he says. Damn. Now it would take more effort to ignore their names.

“Interview subject, the advanced humanoid robot designated as Proto Man and last under the control of Dr. Albert Wily, has so far been uncooperative with all previous attempts to obtain answers for his actions five months ago that resulted mass property destruction, and—” He shuffles the papers as if he doesn’t already know, as if they haven’t been through this over and over. “A single fatality.”

 _Asshole_.

Agent Krantz—Pepper Cop—whoever the hell she is—clears her throat and tries to meet his eyes through his bangs. “Let’s start at the beginning,” she says.

As if there was anywhere else to start. As if either of them knew when the beginning _was_. It wasn’t that cold night, the one that ended it blood. It wasn’t even months earlier, when he was stupid enough to think that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. That maybe he could have a future.

“Proto Man,” Krantz says again, searching for his eyes and somehow, despite his best efforts, meeting them. “We just need to know the truth. Everything will be better if you just tell us the truth.”

He jerks his eyes away. Tries not to flinch. The question is coming, as it always does, and it still hurts more than a blaster shot to the chest. It hurts more than anything.

Why can’t they just stop? Why can’t they just leave him alone, leave him to rot? Why can’t they just scrap him and _get it over with_?

He squeezes his eyes shut, as if that would cut off his auditory sensors. The question comes anyway.

“Why did you kill Kalinka Cossack?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was SUPPOSED to be editing something else, but you know what, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Ruby Spears-verse, with some liberties taken. Thanks to ChronicDelusionist for both the title and feedback!
> 
> HUGE EDIT: This is a modern day take on Ruby Spears, only without the... more... horrible bits of it, so don't be shocked at the occasional bits of modern tech that pop up.


	2. Chapter One: На Дне

**Six Months Earlier**

Kalinka Cossack had a problem. Actually, she had several. While her current problem had to do with the handcuffs around her wrists and the police car she found herself locked in—that was her most pressing problem, at the moment—they all started with the city she found herself in.

New York, she thought, had to be the worst city in the world. New Yorkers were rude, right down to their core. It was an unearned arrogance in a city under the thumb of a madman, in a country that bragged of superiority while allowing said madman to dwell amid its aptly named Badlands, unable or unwilling to stop him.

Also, the city _stank_. For all the little brainless robots bustling around to keep it clean, it was as if they were merely hiding the grime, smelling as if they bundled the garbage below the streets. The city had the stench of a mangy wet dog in the August heat, and the smell only got worse as she tried to ignore it. She should be more charitable—Russia’s great cities certainly had their worse days, drenched as they were with the dirt of history—but oh, did it have to smell this bad?

Kalinka cleared her throat. The robot officer did not look up.

Her second problem was why they were in the city to begin with. Papa talked up his “international collaboration” and “opportunities that can’t be turned down,” but what he really meant to do was dump her in an all-girls school to keep her out of trouble. She was likely smarter than half the men he would be working with, yet she needed _socialization_. She needed to be among _peers_ , to fill her daily thoughts with nothing but boys and fashion, her skills wasted and forgotten—

Kalinka took a sharp, steady breath, shoving the many arguments she had with her father out of her mind and adding a belated apology to those hypothetical girls she had yet to meet. Dima would be disappointed in her otherwise. All her brothers wanted school to be an opportunity for her, but Dima had been particularly enthused. Not wanting to disappoint him—or Papa—was the reason why she agreed to come. She had promised to at least try.

Being arrested for trying to hack the security system of New York’s Central Bank, she had to admit, was far from trying.

Really, though, this wasn’t her fault. If America was not so terrified of Dr. Wily turning their robots into weapons, they would make the police robots more than brainless drones, capable of distinguishing between merely _examining_ the internal defense system of a bank and actually trying to break it. An _intelligent_ robot, a Robot Master, would know a fifteen-year-old girl was not some common criminal to be manhandled and made to wait for his human partner to return.

If her phone had not been taken, she probably could have cracked the primitive technology that kept them clasped shut. She might even have been able to pick the lock, if she knew how. She’d have to make that a priority, if Papa didn’t ship her straight back to Siberia the second he heard of this mess.

Kalinka sighed, trying to rehearse what she would say. Could she pass it off as a misunderstanding? No, Papa had already caught her attempts to hack his secure files too many times to fall for that. Why had she tried a bank first, of all places? She should have run her code-cracker against a lower-level security system first, she had been so foolish—

A distant explosion rocked the squad car. Kalinka’s head snapped up with alarm. The police robot moved slower, scanning the street as people started to scatter. Kalinka could already hear what frightened them. It was a sound that struck fear into anyone that heard it, the whining whirl of machinery that haunted her nightmares.

The police robot was halfway out the door. “Stay here, citizen. I will assess the situation.”

“ _Wait_ ,” Kalinka said, speaking Russian in her panic. It was too late. The whining got louder. She ducked right before the crash came, a sizzle of lightning blue against inferior steel. The windows shattered, raining down on her. She might have screamed. She knew the police robot didn’t. It never got the chance.

The maddening whine of an engine made to scream faded. The squad car’s doors were mangled open, the wreckage of the police robot next to it. Her handcuffs slipped right off. Connected directly to the officer’s systems, now no more than sparking wires. A design flaw.

Kalinka looked up and spotted the police robot’s assailant at the end of the street. Red on gray armor, a bright yellow scarf flying in the breeze. Dr. Wily’s Second-In-Command gave her a mocking salute and took off, and only then could she breathe again.

Had he known she was there? Did he _recognize_ her?

No, he couldn’t have—it was a random potshot at an authority figure. A single shot, a robot destroyed. Callous cruelty, nothing more.

“I’m sorry,” she said to the police robot, but it was inadequate in both English and Russian. She stepped over its body, hating herself for it, and freed her cell phone from its undamaged pockets. The screen was cracked, an easy fix. Easier to fix than the officer. Debris littered the street. Her thoughts were scattered now, filled with panic. She wondered wildly which way to run.

Hands clamped down on her shoulders and lifted her bodily off the ground, one bony, one thick. They carried her through the nearby alley. Kalinka did shriek then, and did it louder when she saw who carried her.

“Sasha! Vanya! Put. Me. Down!”

Neither listened, though Ivan’s pale blue eyes flickered toward her with guilt. Sasha’s grip only dug in harder. They deposited her in the backseat of a sleek rental car and drove away from the chaos.

“That was uncalled for,” she snapped.

“Kashenka—” Ivan started.

“In the forty-eight hours we have been in America, you have broken your promise to stay put in the hotel, been arrested, and got caught up in a terrorist attack.” Sasha’s gaze met hers in the rearview mirror. Unlike Ivan’s tousled blond hair and healthy glow, Sasha’s unarmored appearance was nearly as severe as his armor. With shock-white hair, sunken dark eyes, and pale skin that seemed to cling to his very bones, he was an intimidating sight—or would be, if Kalinka was not so used to him.

“What am I to tell father?” Sasha added.

She crossed her arms. “Nothing.”

“You can’t be serious,” Ivan said.

Kalinka shrugged. “You two were supposed to be keeping an eye on me, right? What will Papa say when he learns _I gave you the slip_?”

Ivan rolled his eyes at the English expression, but it was from his corny taste in American movies that she got it from.

“You did not,” Sasha said calmly. “We were following you the whole time.”

“You let them arrest me?”

“It was Alexei’s idea,” Ivan muttered. He only called Sasha by his full name when they argued.

Sasha cocked an eyebrow. “I wanted to see how you would get out of it.”

“Unbelievable,” Kalinka said. “Some great guard you turn out to be.”

“You sweet-talked your way out of sabotaging your ballet recital by hijacking the sound system, turning Swan Lake into—what was it? Metallica?”

“AC/DC,” she said. “I thought that would be the most offensive to that witch of an instructor. And that was two years ago!”

“You managed to convince Papa that turning the floor sweeping drone into a wall-climbing multi-limbed monstrosity was merely a childish prank and not an attempt to break into his lab, and that was _this_ year,” Sasha continued more severely. “And this is your fifth failed attempt to hack that particular security system. I will spare you my speculation as to why.”

Kalinka sank deeper in her seat and said nothing.

“If we had not busied ourselves with distracting that police drone’s human companion,” Sasha said. “We would have been there to defend you. For that, I apologize, but you are still in trouble.”

“Kashenka—” Ivan tried again.

“I am _not_ little,” Kalinka snapped. “Not anymore.”

Ivan sighed. “Kalinka,” he said, pained. “It is one thing to be up to your usual antics. It is another to do it in a city under constant threat from Wily, as you have just discovered.”

“I didn’t cause that,” she said, trying not to think of the police robot. “And the native New Yorkers seem to think it no big deal.”

“Dr. Wily is _not_ the fool he’s made out to be,” Ivan replied sharply. “He has no regard for the agony he causes, and neither do the robots under his control. Will you really bring our father more grief?”

The car fell silent. Kalinka’s eyes strayed to the streets they left behind, but there was no sign of any attack, not even smoke.

“I’m sorry, Vanya,” she said quietly. “I just don’t want to be locked away at some school while my family remains at risk in the city.”

“Father is well aware of the danger and has taken precautions,” Sasha said, not unkindly. “And you are not being sent to school to be locked away like some princess in a castle. You would be happier if you had friends, Kashenka.”

“I have you and Vanya,” Kalinka said, ignoring the diminutive. “And Dima. Vadim and Yuri call regularly, and Stepan and Leonid send letters frequently. I am fine.”

Her brothers exchanged a look.

“I’m not lonely,” she insisted. The look between them only deepened.

“We just want you to be safe,” Ivan said, watching her in the rearview. “And the school is that. Remember what happened to Ptolemy.”

Guilt stabbed her, her thoughts shooting back to the police robot’s broken body, but she forced herself to roll her eyes. “I’m not Ptolemy,” she said. “I hardly remember him, anyway.”

Ivan eyed her, but kept his thoughts to himself.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Sasha said bluntly. “But we will make a deal. Father will hear none of this—”

“Alexei,” Ivan cried.

“ _If_ you agree to attend school without incident,” Sasha continued.

Kalinka bit her lip, trying to make the decision seem tough. She could only test Sasha so far, and while he always kept his word, she learned the hard way his deals had very short expiration dates.

“Agreed,” she said.

“I didn’t agree,” Ivan said, but he folded his arms and offered no further protest. They would have it out again, in private, but for now the car stayed silent.

Kalinka’s gaze drifted back to the part of the city they left behind. This time, though distant, she could see something hovering high above the buildings. The vehicle’s scourging sound echoed in her ears, though she knew it was all in her head, too far away to really hear.

With a violent jerk, Wily’s Skulker shot off in the distance, pursued by a small blue figure riding something red, their colors blurring against the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian naming conventions are very complicated and while I resolve to use as little actual Russian as possible, affectionate diminutive forms of names are very common. The added -shenka is often added to female names, meaning ‘little’. (Kalinka is not a person’s name in Russian, so I had a tough debate between Kalishenka or Kashenka. Hopefully, I chose the logical one.) Sasha is one of the more common diminutives for Alexei, as is Vanya for Ivan. 
> 
> The title comes from Molchat Doma’s song Na Dne (At The Bottom). I’ve been listening to a lot of Molchat Doma lately, so expect more of that.


	3. Chapter Two: Regret Roulette

“PROTO MAN!”

Dr. Wily’s bellow echoed improbably through the many levels of Skull Castle. The old man rarely used the intercom, not when his shouting rang through the cold metal corridors without aid. They’d probably been designed that way, and it usually had its intended effect. The Robot Masters learned to come running, no matter what. If they didn’t catch Wily’s latest command, they’d end up sorry.

“ _Proto Man_!”

He had a fifty-fifty chance Wily would give up after the second yell, letting him go back to his nap. He’d already spent the last three days nursing Wily’s wounded ego after their latest defeat. Usually the doctor busied himself with concocting his next half-brained scheme by now, giving everyone at least a few weeks of peace.

He rolled over.

“…I don’t want you useless bucket of bolts, I want _Proto Man_!” Something clanked, followed by a yelp. Cut Man.

Proto kicked off the canvas cover he was sleeping under and slipped out of his hiding spot, a hidden wedge of space created by Wily’s haphazard fortress design. He had a few spots picked out around Skull Castle like it, undiscovered by anyone else and long forgotten by Wily. It paid to not be so easy to sneak up on. He technically had his own room, a claustrophobic shoebox of a thing that would be the first place the old man would look for him.

It was best avoided. Someone broke the door lock on his room last week and interrogating the Robot Masters still standing still left him no clue as to who did it. Proto let it drop. It didn’t pay to seem too invested, either.

“Incompetent, all of you! I ought to melt you down to scrap, that’s all you’re good for—”

“You rang, Doc?” Proto interrupted, slipping silently into the room and leaning against the doorframe. A cowed-looking Cut Man and Guts Man shot him twin looks of relief, but Wily was still red with anger when he whirled around and crossed the room with a shaking fist.

One of _those_ rants, then. Proto should’ve gone back to sleep.

“Where have you been?” Wily snapped, waving his finger at Proto’s face.

Some of his spittle hit Proto’s visor. He wiped it away.

“Repairing the jets in the hanger,” he said.

“A likely story,” Wily growled.

“Can’t prove I wasn’t.”

Wily snorted, shaking his finger harder. “I have cameras monitoring the hangers, have you forgotten?”

Proto smiled crookedly. “You really gonna waste time checking them?”

Wily continued to glare at him, but his regular color returned, his fury delayed for now. The old man turned back to a work bench covered in blueprints. Proto trailed after him, jerking his head toward the door. Cut Man didn’t waste another second, tugging Guts Man out of the room. Cut Man was the “smarter” one of the rather dismal duo, but even the bigger bot knew to keep his mouth shut.

“What’s the big deal now?” Proto asked, sounding bored.

“Your insolence will one day be your undoing, Proto,” Wily snarled, grabbing a handful of papers and shaking them at his second.

Oh, good, a lecture. Proto tuned him out, scanning the room. Wily’s work progress was as messed up as his mind, papers tossed all over the room, remnants of half-started projects scattered in the corners. Proto never cared to understand how Wily worked, and he wasn’t about to start now. He spotted a heavy wrench tossed on the floor and picked it up, turning it in his hands until he found a swipe of orange paint on one corner.

“Did you throw this at Cut Man?” he demanded.

Wily stopped mid-rant. “Unintentionally,” he said, having the decency to look guilty. “He should have ducked.”

“Do I have to remind you how low morale is?” Proto tossed the wrench, not caring where it landed, and crossed his arms with a scowl. “Again?”

“They’re the ones who keep losing to that blue menace,” Wily returned. “As do _you_.”

Proto ignored the jab, counting on his fingers. “We’re low on supplies. We’re out of money. And we _keep_ _losing Robot Masters_!”

“A handful of dead weight, that’s all,” Wily grumbled, but it was quiet. Proto had him there.

“Stone Man,” Proto said. Lost in an avalanche after an attempt to steal the world’s glaciers. “Drill Man.” Cave-in, after trying to steal the Space Needle. “Toad Man, Dive Man, Bubble Man—” All lost in an ill-conceived, expensive plot to fill the Great Lakes with robot sea monsters. “Bright Man, Hard Man, Ring Man, _Dust Man_ —”

“Okay, okay,” Wily snapped, waving Proto off. “It’s been a rough year, that’s all.”

“I’m not even counting the ones you junked for insubordination,” Proto finished. Mostly because he didn’t want to think about what happened to Ice Man. Or Air Man after him, when Wily decided he was equally responsible. “And I shouldn’t have to remind you that no one is making _new_ Robot Masters for us to steal.”

“You presume I can’t make my own,” Wily said.

“With what? The scrapheap behind the fortress?” Proto replied. “We weren’t even successful at robbing a bank today, Wily!”

Wily’s face darkened again. Proto kept his expression neutral.

“Indeed,” Wily snarled, shuffling through the now thoroughly crumpled papers in his hands. He shoved one at Proto, who reluctantly took it.

“This is just a news article on the Robot Master ban. I already know about this,” Proto said, frowning.

The measure had been passed across the country last month to much controversy. A temporary ban on building new Robot Masters for the next four years. It had already been challenged by several industries who found the intelligent robots more useful than drones, but the details of that legal fight bored him. What mattered is that they weren’t absconding with new troops any time soon.

“ _Ja_? Look at who spearheaded the campaign for it.”

Proto’s frown deepened. “Governor Mitchell Deacon,” he said darkly. “What is that guy’s deal?”

Wily snorted. “Besides you pretending to be his ally and attempting to replace him with a robot double?”

“It’s been months, you’d think he’d be over it by now,” Proto replied. “Besides, that was _your_ plan, not mine.”

“He seems to have taken it personally, nonetheless,” Wily said dryly. “You come up in his speeches quite a lot, Proto. I think you’ve injured his pride.”

 _That_ Proto did know about. Before Deacon’s election, his mentions in the press either lumped him in with Wily’s other bots or highlighted his mysterious nature and battle skills. He liked to imagine his brother steaming over it—the press loved getting shots of Mega Man getting his ass handed to him, whereas his eventual victory was old news. Vultures, the lot of them, but Proto still got a kick out of it.

The governor, however, had been on a vehement tirade against Wily and his robots since his recent election. Most politicians like to avoid talking about the terrorists in their midst; the ones that did tended to torpedo their future careers by being unable to root out the problem once and for all. Deacon was as likely to flame out as the rest, but in the meantime he talked tough, singling out Proto Man every time.

Proto didn’t like it.

“And that’s not all Deacon has been up to,” Wily added, shoving another paper at Proto. “He’s wiring the entire city up with ‘anti-Wily’ security systems, designed to single out any robot under my control.”

Proto yanked the paper out of Wily’s hands and scanned it quickly. “This is a joke, right? He can’t do that, the cost would be enormous!”

“Would be,” Wily said with a scowl. “But a certain _Mikhail Cossack_ seems to have offered it with a steep discount. Some sort of ‘international collaboration,’ though that fool Light objects to it. For once, we agree.”

Wily spat the name like it tasted of motor fuel, but Proto didn’t recognize it. He didn’t bother keeping up with Wily’s professional grudges.

“That’s what busted up our bank heist?” Proto asked, unable to keep the dismay out of his voice. “We had disguises and scanner jammers with us, they shouldn’t have seen us coming!”

“Doesn’t matter, a signal jammer can’t disrupt it. It not only picks up on non-organics, it does a scan for specific Robot Master energy signatures.” Wily jabbed Proto in the chest. “It picks up all that programming that makes you unique and sends out an alarm to every cop in the city _and_ that infernal brother of yours.”

“I’m not a Robot Master,” Proto said. “I’m more advanced than those idiots.”

“Doesn’t matter. Every bit of effort to make you pass as human is worthless against this system.” Wily turned back to the blueprints with a scowl. “It’s just the banks for now, but in a few months, it’ll be the whole city, right down to public parks. No matter how I dig into the devices using it, I’ve no way to counter it without cracking its code.”

Proto scanned the document again, more frantic now. “It’s only in New York,” he said. “We could try another city—”

“Use the brains I gave you!” Wily retorted. “If we don’t stop this in its tracks while it’s being tested in New York, it’ll be worldwide soon enough. Then where will we be?”

“Sounds like you outta focus on _breaking_ it, doc,” Proto said tightly.

Wily smiled at him sourly. “Regretting turning down the chance to play hero now, are we?”

Proto scowled. “That’s not funny.”

“Isn’t it? Oh, how overjoyed Light was to see what was stolen from him return.” Wily’s smile turned cruel. “Imagine where you’d be if you had stayed, hrm? Lauded as a hero, welcomed as a brother.”

“Do you have a point, Wily?” Proto snapped. “Or are you just going to keep spinning some weird fantasy instead of _fixing our problem_?”

Wily shrugged, turning away. “We wouldn’t be in this mess had you not made such the fool of the governor,” he replied. “And I imagine Light would have fought harder against it had his would-be eldest not stabbed him so thoroughly in the back. Idle speculation, nothing more.”

Proto stormed out of the room without another word.

Cut Man and Guts Man must have spread word of Wily’s wrathful mood, for the halls were empty, though he spotted what might be Shadow Man lurking in a dark corner. Proto ignored him, bursting through the door to his room and slamming it shut behind him, denting it. It wasn’t like it could get more busted.

 _Deacon_. It had all gone wrong since Deacon, and he couldn’t pin down why. Wily had been perfectly satisfied with his performance at the time, and Mega Man had known it to be a trick from the start. Deacon had gotten off light compared to the various other politicians they terrorized. If anything, it gave him a boost in the polls. He should be thanking Proto, not calling for his damn head.

And why was this all coming to a head now? His encounters with his brother afterwards had been tense in a way they weren’t before. Mega wasn’t happy with him, whatever, and Roll was downright venomous, but it was just a stupid plot. They didn’t have to take it so personally.

Wily certainly seemed to, although Proto had done every little thing he asked. Every failed scheme since, the old man had found a snide way to bring up Proto’s _good turn_ , as if he had nothing to do with it. Why, Proto didn’t know, but it never failed to get to him, and the old man knew it. Was it just a thorn Wily couldn’t help twisting, or did he really regret having his second-in-command play hero?

And if the latter was the case, why did he have Proto do it in the _first_ place?

Proto dismissed his armor and dug through a tiny closet for a change of clothes. A biker jacket, black leather cracked, t-shirt, torn-up blue jeans, and square aviators. His scarf he wound tight and tucked under the zipped jacket. The only pair of sneakers he had were worn through the soles, but what was he worried about, catching a cold?

After a quick finger-comb of his hair—a reddish-brown, lighter than his brother’s—to smooth it down, Proto scooped up a visored helmet and headed toward the vehicle hanger to grab one of the non-skull-themed bikes. He didn’t like being unarmored and he didn’t like going into the city—not New York, not so close to his goody-two-shoes siblings. But damn well no one was going to keep him out of it.

If Wily couldn’t crack this security system, he’d just have to find Cossack himself and wring his rotten neck until he coughed up that code.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to how the DVDs are laid out, the episode Bro Bots was one of the latter ones, though like most cartoons of its day, the chronological events don't really affect how each episode plays out. This if fanfiction, though, and goddamnit, there's gonna be consequences if I have anything to say about it. 
> 
> (Title taken from an Unlike Pluto song.)


	4. Chapter Three: танцевать

Columbus Circle Mall, Manhattan. A modern monstrosity of metal and glass, plunked down amid older buildings showing the wear and tear of a beleaguered city. The shopping center—with its upscale cafes, throw-away fashion shops, and outrageously-priced furniture stores— was clearly meant to drag the neighborhood into the shining, safe future of 20XX.

It was also the perfect place to roll out an expansion of Papa’s security system, which is why Kalinka was there, drinking an over-sugared coffee and watching the set-up of a stage a few floors below. The governor—what was his name? Declan? McCann?—was scheduled to make a speech about it on Saturday, officially unrolling the security system dubbed GAMMA to the world. It had taken a lot of digging for her to find out that much, shuffling through Papa’s folder when he was busy elsewhere, trying to keep her snooping hidden from the watchful eyes of Sasha and Ivan. 

She’d promised both of them she would focus on school. Kalinka frowned deeply at her phone. Dima had been right when he said it would be nothing like the high schools depicted in American movies. No, it had been worse. Instead of roaming cliques of vapid girls obsessed with boys and clothes, her classmates were mostly international students who were down-to-earth and college-focused. In the last week, she had turned down multiple invitations to lunch, choosing to spend her time in the library. She had hoped that would dry up any interest in her. Instead, it only seemed to make the other girls more determined to be friends with her.

Kalinka was  _ not _ in New York to make friends. Not when she had a job to do.

She shook her head, trying to focus. Papa would be there for the governor’s speech, as would Dr. Light and his advanced robots, Mega Man and Roll. None of her brothers would be—their recovery and removal of Wily’s programming had been kept quiet to prevent them from being targeted again, and it was an open secret that Sasha had never been registered as a Robot Master at all. Papa didn’t want anyone thinking he still made Robot Masters, not after his others had been stolen.

GAMMA would only be fully operational on the day of the speech. In the meantime, it was running, but only passively, merely identifying the robots it came across rather than categorizing them. It was a necessary process to give the program time to distinguish friend from foe, but that  _ also _ meant it wasn’t being as carefully monitored as it normally would be. No one would take notice of the extra eyes tapped into the system, and GAMMA wouldn’t be keeping records of who accessed it just yet.

Kalinka glanced at her phone. So far the only progress she made so far was being able to see GAMMA’s tracking feed. Lit up on her screen in a grid map pattern were all the identified robots in the vicinity, from the construction robots down below to the little repair robots within the walls, all carrying on with their pre-programmed tasks. GAMMA was an ingenious system, she had to admit. It could adapt to the already existing sensors, scanning specifically for the Designated Serial Number weaved into a Robot Master’s code. If you needed to be on the lookout for someone so human the only way to tell the difference would be to cut them open, GAMMA would do the trick.

It was astonishing how many robots New York had, Kalinka thought, but a little sad, too. Because they couldn’t think for themselves, they were more prone to mistakes, and the more mistakes a robot made, the more mistreated they were by the humans who depended on them.

_ It’s a sad loop _ , Leonid wrote once, describing a job he was on off the coast of Australia.  _ The drilling drones followed their instructions to the letter, but with those instructions come the flaws of being unable to think on your feet _ . With Leonid’s help, the job went well, and was twice as safe as it normally would be. But with only a few Robot Masters to rely on, it still wasn’t enough to rehabilitate them in the eyes of a world frightened by Dr. Wily.

Kalinka clenched her fist. It wasn’t  _ fair _ . Wily had taken her brothers—Dima, with his bright wide eyes, Yuri, with his frog-like face—and turned them into sick parodies of themselves, dumbed down to make them easier to control, stripped of their original personalities and charm. She remembered clinging to Stefan’s spout, laughing with glee as he pulled her around the pool while teaching her how to swim. All Americans would know of him were the missiles Wily made him wield, and the ships he was forced to sink.

Papa had worked tirelessly to restore them when Dr. Light helped bring them back, but they were different. Changed. Vadim’s laugh, which used to be warm and welcoming, sounded forced. Dima seemed sad when he cleaned the apartment, though he could never tell her why. Ivan seemed back to his usual self, but that too was only surface level, his face tight whenever the topic of Wily came up. She used to play with his rings as a child, but he never once summoned them upon his return. Sasha had never been captured by Wily—he had been built after, to protect her—but his gloomy nature brought back none of the stolen cheer.

No one but Sasha ever spoke about Ptolemy, and even then, only as a warning. No one ever said how much they missed him.

Papa was careful, though. Those that couldn’t pass for human were sent to work far from where they would be associated with Wily, and still mostly in secret, though Dr. Light swore they could not be tampered with again. Dima was allowed to come to America with them, but only if he stayed out of sight, and only because she refused to leave him behind. Dima was the one she worried about the most—the way he shuffled silently in and out of rooms, how quiet he was when he spoke, as if he was afraid any high volume would bring retribution.

Kalinka was not foolish enough to think she was capable of making Wily pay. A fifteen-year-old who knew a fair bit about robotics, plus an additional few hacking tricks, was not bringing down a man the whole world had failed to stop. She would not be averse to seeing him suffer, in any way possible—

Something blinked rapidly on her phone. Something  _ impossible _ .

Kalinka rapidly stood up and tossed the rest of her disgusting coffee in the trash. Things were finally about to get interesting.

#

“Whatever happened to being innocent before being proven guilty?”

Already the crowd was making a wide berth around the scene, pretending they didn’t see the confrontation between the young man and the security robot. Kalinka suspected if this shopping center had been a little less posh, a little less artificial, phones would be out and filming. But security and safety was the illusion being sold here, and wasting time on a teen dressed in ratty clothes and clearly not meant to be here would shatter that. The boy jerked back, angry now, but the security robot’s grip on his arm was firm.

“You were interfering with the building material for the stage,” it intoned in a flat voice. “I’ll need you to come with me.”

“I was just looking!” the boy snapped. “I got rights, you know. I ain’t going nowhere, you brainless—”

Kalinka wrapped herself around his free arm and grinned brightly. “There you are!”

The boy snapped his face toward her, confusion plain even with the sunglasses he wore. The security robot was not smart enough to be confused, its head barely shifting toward her.

“This young man will need to be taken in for questi—”

“There’s no need to harass my boyfriend like that,” Kalinka exclaimed. She swiped a few commands on her phone, feeling only a tinge of guilt as she did so. “He was just looking for me, weren’t you darling?”

The boy was watching her, calculating. Not slow on the up-take, at least.

“I was,” he said. His voice was low and neutral, but not unpleasant. He spoke like an actor you would see on American TV. He looked like one too, his features smooth and without blemish, his age anywhere between fifteen to twenty.

Kalinka smiled back at him. They tried so hard, those robot inventors did, but they always seemed to fail to realize that perfection was a dead give-away. Still, his arm felt warm under her grip, and when she slipped his hand into hers, it felt like real flesh and bone, his muscles twitching in her grip.  _ Very _ advanced.

The security robot’s eyes went wide, and it let go of the boy’s arm. Her hack had finally gone through, though it had taken too long. Papa’s work, no doubt. She’d have to step up her game.

“My apologies,” the security robot said. “Have a nice day.”

“We will!” Kalinka said brightly, tugging the boy away from the scene. He frowned at her, but she nodded at the corner cameras and he did nothing but follow.

“There’s an unguarded exit to the roof on the top floor,” she said quietly, leading him up the escalators. “They haven’t extended the security system that far yet, I’ve checked.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied in a low voice.

She grinned at him. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m a  _ great _ liar,” he retorted. His voice slipped a bit at that, going higher than the tone he was trying to maintain.

_ Ah-ha _ .

“Really?” she replied, slipping her phone into her pocket and pulling out a small cylinder instead. “Is that why you got caught by a drone?”

As predicted, the door was unguarded (and unlocked, something she had done earlier in case she had to do some snooping), and with a quick glance around, they slipped through. This side of the roof was purely for maintenance, surrounded by towering humming machinery that protected them from view. Perfect.

The boy scowled. “I was  _ not _ caught by a drone, do you think I’m stupid? I let myself— _ argh _ !”

Kalinka stepped back as an electrical shock ran through his systems with a violent jolt, seizing up his systems and shutting them down. He went rigid like the robot he was, and fell face first. She didn’t bother catching him.

“Yes,” she said to the unconscious body, eyeing the shock-stick in her hand. “I do think you’re stupid, Proto Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID I FORGET TO MENTION THIS WAS A MODERN SETTING. I did, argh. Please think of it as 'cell phones and the internet theoretically exists, but Wily is still about to get away with his wacky shenanigans' à la Archie Comics. 
> 
> (Title is Молчат Дома- Танцевать: Molchat Doma - Tancevat (To Dance))


	5. Chapter Four: Blood in the Water

Proto Man’s systems snapped back to life, waking him with a jerk. He was sitting upright, his arms tied behind his back with what seemed to be cables. Sitting in front of him was the horrible brat who had zapped him, chin resting on knitted hands as she watched him. She looked harmless enough, in her jeans and green tunic shirt, blond hair curling innocently around her face. Human. Sixteen, maybe. 

_ Pretty _ , he thought, then scowled. Not when he was through with her.

“I figured it out,” she announced, peering closer at him. “It’s your teeth. No human has teeth that white and that straight. But the rest of you is a marvel, you know that? Your skin even looks like it has pores.”

“You’ve got five seconds to let go of me,” he replied, trying to jerk free from his restraints. His limbs only responded with a tinge of pain, unmoving. Not good.

“Ah, is that your real voice?” she asked. “Pity. The one you used before was much more attractive.”

“You little—who sent you?” He tried harder to move, his limbs only twitching. “Is Deacon that low enough to send a little girl to do his dirty work?”

“Deacon? Oh, the governor. No. You really should stop that, the effects of the shock won’t wear off for another fifteen minutes.” She leaned closer, frowning. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

Proto yanked his head to the side, the only thing he could move. His sunglasses,  _ where were his sunglasses _ —there, on the ground, the glass cracked. Fury flashed through him, hard and hot, but it quickly melted into panic. He still couldn’t move.

“I’m going to kill you,” he snarled. “You hear me? I’m going to  _ kill you _ —”

The girl picked up the aviators and slipped them over his face. Proto jerked away from her, the threat dying in his throat. She sat back down, resting her chin against a hand. 

“Don’t shout,” she said. “Someone might hear you, and neither of us are supposed to be here.”

He stared at her in silence, trying to get his ragged breathing under control. She stared back, biting her lip. Not out of fear. She looked—sorry? Guilty? The cables were from a pile in the corner, and the roof was far from secure. This wasn’t the calculated plan of a professional. She was in over her head. 

He could work with that.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Do you know you don’t have a Designated Serial Number?” she replied, pulling out her phone and frowning at it. “That should be impossible. All advanced robots have DSNs.”

“And how the hell do you know that?” he demanded. She turned the screen toward him. There, on a gridded map, was an outlined body in red, numbers pulsing over it.

**000**

“That’s… that’s the security system,” he said, eyes narrowing. “How does a ten-year-old have access to that?”

“I’m fifteen, and it’s called GAMMA,” she snapped.  _ Ha _ . Her accent slipped when she was mad, something Slavic slipping through. “And I don’t have access to it, not yet. I’m only able to see what it’s tracking.”

“Who else can see that?” he snapped.

“No one, right now. In a few days?” The girl shrugged. “Anyone with access to the system. The roll-out for the whole city should take one, maybe two months?”

Proto took a deep breath.  _ The whole city _ . More, if Wily was right. Soon he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without being caught. This wouldn’t be like anything they faced before. There wouldn’t be some centralized system to shut down. 

If he didn’t find a way to stop this, he would be trapped for good.

“You’re very well made,” she said quietly. “I bet you might be able to fool a doctor, couldn’t you, if they only had a quick look?”

He said nothing.

“When GAMMA goes live, you won’t be able to fool anyone,” she continued. “You won’t be able to hide. Are you okay with that?”

Proto frowned at her. “What do you want?”

“I want to hack into the system. I want to know how it works, and I want to be able to use it for myself.” The girl paused, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She narrowed them, studying him. “And if you help me do that, I’ll help you find a way to break it.”

He snorted. “You’re just a kid. Shouldn’t you be making glitter art in elementary school?”

“I’m  _ fifteen _ —fine. If you don’t want to make a deal, that’s fine,” she said. “I have plenty of time to figure this out on my own. You have a few weeks, if that.”

He tilted his head, studying her back. “What’s your name?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

“If I’m partnering with some kid, I at least want to know who to blame when it all goes wrong,” he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Kali Mikhailova.” She had to think about it, but it was a good lie, probably somewhat close to the truth. Mikhailova was just common enough of a Russian name that it wouldn’t be worth looking up. She was smart, but aware of it enough to let it get to her head. If she had been smarter, she would have been watching the clock closer. “What’s yours?”

“None of your business,” he said.

The girl—Kali, if that really was her name—rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking for your designated title, I’m asking for your name,” she said. “You do have a name, right?”

Proto smirked more, not answering. By the door, a green light blinked from a security box, wired up to whatever system the kid had managed to block. Baby stuff, but he had to admit, hacking the security bot took skills. Skills he could make use of, just not the way she thought.

“Be that way,” Kali said, putting too much of an effort into casually shrugging. “Will you take the deal or not?”

“What deal?” he replied. “You have a fancy computer game on your phone, that’s it. Why am I supposed to believe one little girl is going to be able to break something a team of the world’s top scientists put together?”

Kali glowered at him, but she couldn’t seem to think of anything to say to that. Proto tilted his head back and counted the seconds, flexing his fingers behind his back.

“I gotta admit,” he said lazily. “The boyfriend trick was good. You’re gonna make a rock solid petty crook one day, if you don’t get caught shoplifting lip gloss and get sent to juvie first.”

“I don’t even wear lip gloss—”

“But the rest of that,” Proto continued, cutting her off. “Is a pipe dream. C’mon, kid. What makes you think I want to destroy Beta or whatever it is in the first place? You don’t even know who I am.”

Kali fell silent at that, but to his annoyance, she merely studied him with a pensive look on her face. He dug a chip of concrete out of the roof, aimed, and flicked it with force. The green light went out, the girl not even noticing. 

“I don’t have to deal with—” she started. An alarm blared, causing her to jump. She looked at the door and swiped frantically at her phone, muttering a curse in Russian. “There shouldn’t be a second alarm!”

Already, Proto could hear the heavy stomping steps of more security drones. He snapped the cables around his arms and stood in the same fluid motion. Before Kali could shriek, he clamped a hand over her mouth and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her smoothly with him as he leaped up and over the heavy equipment, landing on top of a large air conditioner unit. Below them, the door burst open, several security bots and their human handler spilling out.

“Hush,” he whispered into her ear. 

Kali froze in his grip, but did as he said. He held her gently, but tight, confirming what he already knew. Human entirely, not a hint of enhancement underneath her skin. Fifteen, just like she said. Her heart beat wildly, but she was making an effort to keep her breathing calm. Had guts there, but she was crazier than Wily, if she really thought Proto was going to team up with some human kid.

Below, the drones did a sweep. Not one of them looked up. They never did. The human guard didn’t either, not even bothering to investigate the broken security box. 

“Damn system changes,” he grumbled, making a sharp gesture at the drones. “Back downstairs, it was a stupid false alarm.”

Proto let go of the girl as security left, smirking at her when she whirled on him. 

“Never do that again,” she snapped. 

“Won’t need to,” he replied, holding up her phone. “Not like you’ll ever see me again.”

“Give it back!” Kali lunged at him, but he danced out of the way, easily leaping down to the rooftop. She looked around furiously, but the distance was too far for her to safely follow. “You—you  _ jerk _ !”

Proto slipped the phone into his pocket. “Go back to kindergarten and play nice, little girl. It’s a lot safer there.”

Kali snarled some far fouler curses at him than  _ jerk  _ in Russian, but he was already walking away, shaking his head. Someone would get the kid down if she hollered loudly enough. Meanwhile, Proto had all her interesting little programs to pick apart. Once he figured out her tricks, he could use them himself. Quite a win for a day that had promised disaster.

Things were starting to go his way at last.


	6. Interruption: 19:00

“Proto Man?”

He’d drifted off. He lifts his head slightly, not sure why he was bothering. Krantz gives him an encouraging smile, but Stern’s expression remains in its permanent frown. They weren’t really good at this Good Cop/Bad Cop thing. They weren’t really good at whatever the hell they were trying to do at all.

Stern clears his throat, flipping through the papers on his desk. “Let’s try something new, shall we? On multiple occasions, Kalinka Cossack was spotted by her classmates meeting a boy who matches your description after school. Two of her classmates, Faiza Minhaj and Wenting Zhao, speculated she was attempting to keep her older boyfriend a secret from her father. Do you have anything to say to that?”

Proto just stares at him. What the  _ hell  _ was this? The previous questions had been to script. ‘What did you do’ and ‘Why did you do it’. This wasn’t—

Stern clears his throat. “I’ll rephrase,” he says. “Were you dating Kalinka Cossack?”

Krantz jerks, whipping her head to stare wildly at her partner. “Sh—Agent Stern! That’s not what our investigation is about!”

“It’s a line of inquiry,” he replies, his eyes never leaving Proto. “Answer the question, Proto Man.”

Next to Stern, Krantz continues to look flustered, hiding her face in her own set of papers. They must’ve scraped the bottom of the barrel to find these two yahoos.

He wonders what those classmates think of him now.

“No,” he says. His voice sounds… fine. Normal. Like he hadn’t been trapped in silence for months at all. “We were…”

But he can’t say what they were, because he doesn’t know. Irritated that the cop got him to speak at all, Proto looks away.

“Really?” Stern replies, an eyebrow raised. “Dr. Cossack and his robots also reported Kalinka acting secretive and strange, hiding where she went and who she saw. You deny this had anything to do with you?”

Krantz stares at her partner incredulously. Proto grit his teeth.

“After all, she is—was young, and fairly isolated in her upbringing. Her classmates described you as quite handsome.” Stern pauses, flipping over another page. “I can certain see the bad-boy appear of a robot as humanoid as yourself—”

“It wasn’t like that!” Proto snaps. “I won’t let you do this to her. You hear me? She wasn’t some lovesick fool, she was—”

His voice chokes, and he twists his head down. This is why he didn’t  _ talk _ . It just made things worse.

Agent Stern’s gaze is relentless. “She was what, Proto Man?”

“Get out,” Proto snarls. “Get out, get out,  _ get out _ !”

Krantz catches her partner’s arm, already standing. “Okay,” she says. “We’ll take a break. There are things you need to hear that don’t… don’t come from us. But you need to talk to us—”

“Leave me alone!” He’s nearly hysterical now. He’s losing control. “Leave me the hell alone!”

Without another word, they do, leaving Proto alone with the echoes of his own sobs.

#

In his dreams, Dr. Light comes. It must be a dream, because when the man pulls a chair close and cups his hands to Proto’s face, wiping the tears away, he doesn’t even try to stop it.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Light says, sounding choked. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t understand. Not at first. Then he does.

It’s finally time.

“Your brother and sister tried, they really did. They both spoke for you over and over, it—it just wasn’t enough.” Dr. Light closes his eyes, but his touch remains gentle. Because it’s a dream, Proto leans into it until his head rests on Dr. Light’s shoulder. 

“When?” he asks dully.

The doctor doesn’t want to answer, he can tell, but he still tries to be comforting, one hand rubbing Proto’s back, the other sweeping through his hair. 

Dr. Wily’s gestures of affection were fleeting and possessive. A hand gripped hard on his shoulder, or a pat on the head, like one would a dog. Even in his sorrow, Dr. Light’s touch is nothing like that.

“Tomorrow,” he says. Then, fiercely, “It won’t hurt, understand? I won’t let them hurt you.”

If this was reality, Proto would have laughed. There wasn’t anything that could hurt him anymore, he would say. He deserved this. But it’s a dream, and in it, all Proto can do is let the man who should have been his father hold him as he cries. 

#

He’s too drained to deal with the agents when they make their inevitable return, Stern retrieving the chair in front of him as they settle back into place. Stern takes care to place the tape recorder back on the table and switch it on. The two exchange a look, but Proto doesn’t care. His head feels heavy. 

He just wants this to be over. Why isn’t it over?

“Dr. Light told you the news,” Krantz says hesitantly.

Oh. _ Not a dream _ .

“We’re out of time,” she adds, almost pleadingly. “Proto, please, you have to tell us. What happened to Kalinka?”


	7. Chapter Five: Hide and Seek

The raid on Governor Deacon’s scheduled speech was swift and brutal. The man had been expecting them, security bots far outnumbering the humans in the crowd. Wily had listened to him for once and brought Robot Masters that could pack a punch and get results—Crash Man, Quick Man, Metal Man, and Elec Man. 

He also brought Cut Man and Guts Man, shooting down Proto’s argument that Mega Man and Roll could take them apart in their sleep. But not even the wrench incident had shaken their stupid loyalty, and that counted for a lot. No Robot Master would openly rebel against Wily, not after Ice Man, but Proto had to admit, there was a considerable lack of _enthusiasm_ even among his handpicked crew that no amount of punching the blue dweeb would fix.

Speaking of his brother, Mega was busying himself getting the bystanders to safety, assuming the security drones would slow them down. Proto sneered, clicking a switch in the palm of his hand. With an electrified jolt, the wave of security bots collapsed with a clatter. No matter how fancy they looked, all of these places cut corners, and having all their drones share the same frequency was one of them. The transmitter he planted by the stage went unnoticed by the commotion he made when he was grabbed—and gave him a chance to plant the second hijacking device on the security bot itself. 

That little Russian girl thought she was so smart, but he had tricks of his own.

Deacon and his cronies looked absolutely panicked, but Proto’s attention was on the watchful man to their left. Dr. Cossack was careful to keep his image out of the media, but it didn’t take much searching to find images from his college days, still enough youth in his face to call it handsome. 

Proto could fix that soon enough. All he had to do was grab the man and—

A blaster shot sizzled the air in front of him, carefully aimed to miss. Proto’s grin cracked for only a second as he whirled to return fire. “Miss me, little brother?”

“Like a hole in the head!” Mega yelled back. 

His next shot was meant to land, but Proto dodged easily. His grin faded. There it was again, that undercurrent of genuine anger. This wasn’t going to be any fun if his brother was going to be a Debbie Downer from the start.

“Sorry, bro, got things to do,” he said, shrugging. “Metal Man can babysit you ‘til I get back.”

“I’m not—” Mega dodged with a yip as Metal Man’s blades slice toward him, sending debris flying. “Will you just listen? You’re only making things worse, Proto Man!”

“Whatever,” Proto muttered. Roll was currently flattening Cut Man with one of her weird contraptions (he _told_ Wily), the meddling Dr. Light was moving Deacon to safety, but Dr. Cossack had vanished. 

_Damn it_. He hurried toward the stage with an angry hiss. Shutting down the speech was not enough. Without Cossack to reveal the secrets to GAMMA’s weakness, they were only wasting time. He cut Light and Deacon off, ripping away a gun from one of the human guards with ease. 

“Speech that bad, huh?” he said casually. Deacon just stared at him with wide eyes. Useless. “Where’s Cossack?”

“He was never here,” Dr. Light said, putting himself between Proto and the other men. 

“Now _that’s_ a terrible lie,” Proto replied, the eye-roll plain in his voice. “You wanna try that one more time?”

Dr. Light looked at him sadly. “You can be better than this, Proto Man.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re not my dad,” Proto replied, losing patience. “I’m not going to ask again.”

“Dr. Light!”

Roll was charging toward them. Just _great_. He gave Deacon one last sneering look just to see the expression of terror cross his face before leaving quick. This whole thing was a total bust.

Wait. There, at the back of a hideous clothing store was Cossack, slipping through an emergency exit. _Got you_. 

Proto glanced back just to make sure the Robot Masters were functional (Mega had already gotten the better of Metal Man, the brat, but Elec Man had Roll cornered, and Quick Man was still in the running) before slipping through the exit after Cossack. 

“Think you can get aw—”

Something grabbed him by the throat and slammed him so hard against the wall his vision went static. He tried to grasp, but the grip only tightened. His neck was a weak point, the armor too thin to protect against direct assault. Proto’s attacker knew it, flailing strikes against the arm holding him doing nothing. His vision wasn’t coming back. _His vision wasn’t coming back_.

“Skull Man, _don’t_.”

Proto still saw nothing, but the grip slackened enough for him to gasp. He kicked at empty air, but his struggles were weakening. 

“He deserves it,” a second voice answered, somewhere close to his right ear. Proto kicked again, hitting something, but his only reward was being smashed into the wall again, his head bouncing. “You know what he’s done.”

The static spasmed, going black. _No, no, no!_

“Don’t,” the first voice said softly. 

Proto was released abruptly, hitting the ground hard. He couldn’t do anything but gasp as oxygen floods through his system, instantly cooling several overheating systems. His vision flickers, once, twice, and _finally_ came back, the static vanished. 

By the time he was able to pick himself off the ground, Cossack and his protector were long gone.

#

When Proto got himself back to the battle, it was over. Mega Man didn’t even try to chase them to the Skulker, standing grimly among the wreckage and watching them run yet again. He dragged himself to the co-pilot seat and collapsed in it, hand still on his neck. 

Wily glared at him. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

Proto didn’t even know what that meant. He shrugged, glaring at the window. _Skull Man_ . Out of all the Robot Masters, that should be something straight out of Wily’s twisted mind, but he’d never even heard of such a robot. Didn’t _see_ him either. All he had to work on was that whoever he was, he worked for Cossack.

He fingered his neck. It felt bruised and sore, some delicate micro-cables likely crushed. His self-repair would fix that with time. Wily could fix it faster, but the last thing he’d do was let the old man anywhere close to his head. His vision was back, no flickering. Fine. Everything was fine.

He turned to the Wily, but he was in the middle of a full-blown rant. With a sigh, Proto leaned back to stare out the window again. At least this day couldn’t get worse.

#

Proto stood shock still, staring. None of the Robot Masters spoke, but neither did they leave, afraid any movement might incur his wrath. He was well aware his fists were tight at his sides, and shaking.

His room is destroyed. Not just trashed, destroyed. Someone had blasted his cot bed to pieces and smashed up his metal closet and desk. Everything flammable had been burned to cinders; his human clothes, his sketchbooks. The phone was smashed to so many tiny pieces he barely recognized it. 

There was nothing salvageable left. 

“Who did this?” he asked, deadly calm. No one answers. “ _Who did this_?”

It’s Wily-esque, pitch perfect and everything, but all the satisfaction he got out of it was seeking the Geminis flinch. Gyro Man and Crystal Man merely stared back at him, not defiant, but uncaring. He was going to wring one of their _useless_ little necks—

“No one saw what happened.”

He jumped, to his irritation, but it was only Shadow Man, peeling himself free from a dark corner to study the damage. Shadow Man wasn’t often drafted into direct combat—his skills were far more useful for both thieving and spying. He spent little time around the other Robot Masters as far as Proto could tell, and got his orders directly from Wily. 

There was no reason to distrust him—he didn’t have the weaponry to destroy on this level—but Proto stiffened anyway. “You expect me to believe that?” he asked.

Shadow Man studied him evenly. “You could waste your time interrogating everyone in the fortress, if you wish. They didn’t see it happen.”

“And you know that because what, you did ask everyone for me like a good little bot?”

“The sarcasm is unnecessary,” Shadow Man said lightly. “If no one has come forward with an eyewitness account now, they certainly won’t no matter how you threaten them.”

“I haven’t threatened anyone!” Proto snapped.

“You want to.”

Proto resisted the urge to step back. Now he remembered why he didn’t deal with Shadow Man. The guy was _creepy_. He knew too much and said too little. Nothing good would come from starting a fight with him.

“You are your father’s son,” Shadow Man added.

Proto quickly changed his mind.

“You know who did this,” he hissed, shoving the Robot Master roughly. Shadow Man barely moved.

“I do not,” he said, still calm. “But I can say you won’t get the answers you want, no matter how afraid of you they are.”

“So what, I should do nothing?” Proto demanded.

Shadow Mant tilted his head, his expression unchanging. “I would think hard about who does not fear you, Proto Man.”

There was no point to hitting Shadow Man, as much as he wanted to. Instead, Proto stormed away, fuming until he found Wily bent over some weird device that was probably for reversing gravity or something. “Wily—”

“I heard,” Wily answered, in a tone that implied he very much did not care.

Proto threw his hands in the air. “C’mon, seriously?”

“I have more important work than to get involved with petty squabbles,” the old man said, folding his arms with a frown. “I entrust _you_ to deal with those matters.”

“But—”

“I can only assume a lack of discipline must have led to such an incident,” Wily continued. “Perhaps a lack of… faith?”

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” Proto said flatly.

Wily set down the tool in his hand and motioned his Second-in-Command closer. Proto reluctantly obeyed, coming to a stop just out of Wily’s reach. 

“My boy, I have complete faith in you,” Wily said. “You are my most competent and capable robot, after all. It is not your fault that times have been… tough.”

Proto just frowned at him.

“But! I cannot control how the Robot Masters see you, of course. You are their commander, and you’ve done a decent job, I assure you.” Wily rubbed his chin in an exaggerated motion. “But perhaps something… does not sit right with them.”

“Like what?” Proto asked, exasperated. 

“Your recent try at turning good, perhaps?” Wily replied, turning back to his device.

“Everyone knew that was a trick!” Proto cried. “The only one dumb enough to forget it was _Needle Man_.”

“It’s only a guess,” Wily replies, shrugging. “I can only imagine how it must feel to watch you easily gain the acceptance of the humans who once feared you on the good Dr. Light’s word alone, only to have you throw it in their faces with a laugh.”

“I—I don’t…” Confused, Proto stared at him. “Why would anyone…”

“After all, it’s not a choice they’ll ever have,” Wily said, cutting him off. “I wonder. Did they have you stay in the guest room? Or did they have one _prepared_ , just in case? That would be like that fool Light, ever hopeful.”

Something… hurt, in his throat. The damage from Skull Man, no doubt. He turned and left quietly, back to the ruins of his room. The door was bent in, but he kicked it until it was straight enough to close, and sat on the wreckage of the cot with his head in his hands.

The Lights did have a room for him. It was little more than a guest room, but it was clear it had never been used. The bed had been soft and comfortable. He had laid in it wide awake all night long, trying to keep his thoughts empty and failing.

Proto saw the message when he finally lifted his head. It was carved deep by something sharp, the words in jagged slashes across the wall.

**STAY AWAY FROM THE COSSACKS.**


	8. Chapter Six: ВЫПУСТИ МЕНЯ

Kalinka woke to the sound of voices. Two of them, Ivan and Sasha, were arguing as usual. The third, deep and calm, was Papa. Kalinka sat up straight. She had not seen him all week, though he had called immediately after Wily’s attack to assure her everything was okay. She had given up seeing him even after that. Mikhail Sergeyevich Cossack prided himself on balancing work and home, but this latest project seemed like it had consumed him whole.

She yanked herself out of bed and quickly dressed, trying to move quiet but quick down the hall. She turned a corner and nearly crashed into Dima, who grabbed her shoulders and gently steadied her. He winced as the voices rose sharply from the dining room. Kalinka patted his large shoulders sympathetically. Dima had never liked conflict, but he was particularly sensitive to it after his recovery.

“You should have brought me with you!” That was Ivan, emphasizing his point by banging his fist against the table. Dima flinched.

“Ivan, we have been over this,” Papa said, gently. “I could not risk Wily realizing you were within his reach. You know that.”

“ _ Skull Man _ ,” Ivan said sharply. “Is at a bigger risk than me. Not only is he unregistered, if the American government knew what kind of weapons you’ve armed him with—” 

“Your concern is valid, but unnecessary,” Sasha replied, calm as ever. “There was little risk of Wily’s victory in attacking the speech, not with Dr. Light and his robots there to prevent it. My presence was merely a precaution.”

Kalinka sighed. The argument may be new, but it was echoes of the same conflict they always had. Ivan was hot-headed and spirited, whereas Sasha was calm and calculating. Ivan thought his brother to be cold and indifferent, but Kalinka knew better. He was not just built to be her protector, he had been designed to comfort a grieving child (and, though he wouldn’t admit it, her father). He had the mind of a psychologist and could read people in seconds. His ability to calmly work through issues had helped her a lot growing up. 

When Papa had first created her brothers, his designs were experimental, meant to explore what could be achieved by robotics rather than focusing on a narrow purpose. Ivan’s rings were always meant to be defensive, but he was not built to be a combat robot, not like Sasha, and Kalinka wasn’t sure if Ivan understood that. Sasha was quiet and kind, but his anger was icy and ruthless. No matter what Wily had done to Ivan, he was never capable of being a killer.

Sasha—Skull Man—was. 

“You say that, but the prototype nearly got you,” Ivan said darkly, unwilling to let the argument go.

“Did he?” Sasha asked humorlessly.

Papa sighed. “ _ Enough _ , both of you. Kalinka, Dimitri, stop hovering in the hall and join us for breakfast.”

The two exchanged a guilty look and obeyed, joining the others at the dining table. Ivan had his arms folded and looked sulky. Sasha, still calm, retrieved an E-Tank for Dima and a bowl of hot porridge for Kalinka, and ignored Ivan entirely.

Kalinka chewed her lip, poking at the bowl. “Papa, Vanya does have a point. If this job is dangerous, maybe you should stop.”

“I’m sorry, Kashenka,” Papa said gently. “I know this is hard on you—all of you,” he added, sweeping his gaze across the table. “But it’s for the greater good. The speech was a political stunt I had strong objections to—now that I’ve been proven correct, such events will not happen again.”

The four of them just looked at him.

“I  _ promise _ ,” he said firmly. “The project will be finished soon, and once it is, this city will be safe for all of you.”

That did not bode well. Kalinka frowned at her food. If Papa was closer than she thought, she really was running out of time. Proto Man taking her phone was only a small setback, but it would cost her regardless. Stupid boy. She shouldn’t have bothered saving him from that security robot. It had taken her an hour to work out how to get down from the air conditioning unit, and she had scraped up her knees in the attempt. She didn’t need his help. She could do this on her own. 

“By the way, Kashenka,” Papa added. “Alexei tells me you’ve lost your phone.”

Kalinka jerked her head up. “What? I didn’t tell him that. How did you—” She stopped, whipping her head toward Sasha. “Have you been  _ tracking  _ me?”

Sasha met her gaze calmly. “Merely as a precaution.”

“Papa!” she cried, outraged. 

Her father rubbed his temples. “Alexei and Ivan are in charge of your safety. I know you’re upset, but if they considered it a necessity—”

“I am  _ not  _ some pet you keep on a leash,” Kalinka snapped, standing. “I’m old enough to take care of myself!”

“Kashenka, we only wanted to be careful,” Ivan said pleadingly. “If someone tried to take you, tracking your phone would be the only way to save you.”

“No one’s going to take me anywhere!” Kalinka yelled. Dima cringed, clamping his hands over his hearing receptors. Sasha and Papa looked at her with twin expressions of disapproval. 

“Kalinka,” Papa said. “I know you are upset, and your brothers should have spoken to you about it, but—”

“But what, it’s okay to spy on me?” she demanded.

“I know you were too young to remember what happened before—” Ivan started.

“Why does everyone assume that?” Kalinka snapped. Dima fled, reaching his limit. 

“ _ Enough _ ,” Papa said, standing, but Kalinka had turned and was already storming back to her room.

#

She woke up on the floor of the lab, disorientated. How did she get here? She was chatting with Vadim, laughing at how he could make the bulb on his head flash different colors. Something exploded. An accident?

Where was Vadim?

“Dr. Cossack, the longer you stall at handing over the rest of your robots, the more you will suffer.”

The voice was cruel, and close. Kalinka touched her head and found blood on her hands. She was about to cry for Papa when she was scooped from the floor by two large hands and rushed away. Startled, she looked up and met Ptolemy’s eyes. He pressed a finger to his lips and kept moving, moving deeper into the Citadel. 

“We must stay quiet,  _ kiska _ ,” he said. Ptolemy was the only one who called her  _ kitty _ , because of her habit of playing with his cape. 

He brought her to her bedroom and set her on her bed, intently listening even as he cleaned the wound on her head. Kalinka strained, but she couldn’t hear like he could. His head twisted sharply toward the closed door, and her breath caught in her throat.

“Tomy, what’s happening?” she asked. “Where is everyone? Is Papa okay?”

“It will be okay,” Ptolemy said, his gaze turning back to her. “I won’t let anything bad happen. I need you to hide for me, just for now. Just until this is over.”

At fifteen, Kalinka knew that to be a lie. At eight, sheltered and spoiled as she was, she had all the faith in the world in her brother. He was tall, strong, and regal, with his pharoah-themed armor. She did as he said, tucking herself under the bed and clamping her hands over her mouth, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. Soon she could hear what Ptolemy could; the thud of robotic feet, the sound of glass and other things breaking, and that same cruel, harsh voice, shouting commands.

“Find her! Find the girl! Cossack will do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

Eyes wide, Kalinka clamped her hands to her mouth tighter and stopped breathing. Ptolemy turned to look at her. 

“Remember,  _ kiska _ ,” he said. “I love you very much.”

Before she could react, he opened the door and threw himself into battle.

#

Papa tried to talk to her through the door several times, but Kalinka ignored him, hugging her pillow and trying to pretend she wasn’t crying. He finally left, and when she came out, she found a new phone sitting for next to her school bag, an upgrade on the last model. She tried to find Dima to apologize, but he had hidden himself away. She couldn’t blame him. 

Sasha drove her to school in silence, speaking only to tell her that he would be assisting Papa today, and if she wanted a ride, she could call Ivan. He was trying to give her space, but she was too furious still to appreciate it. The rest of the day was just as miserable. She zoned out in history and did terribly on her Shakespeare paper, the first B minus she'd ever got. Over lunch break she managed to reformat the phone to her liking, careful to search every inch of its programming for Sasha’s little spy program. 

She couldn’t find one, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Her inability to crack GAMMA proved her skills at hacking were still limited. It might finally be time to admit defeat.

_ Remember _ , kiska,  _ I love you very much. _

Kalinka left school at the end of the day in a cloud of gloom, and almost walked right past the gate without noticing a thing. Then, she came to a stop, almost comically, and whirled. “ _ You _ !”

The boy shrugged. “Me.”

“How did you—” Kalinka stalked up to him and shoved her finger in his face, lowering her voice to a hiss. “Give me back my phone!”

He tilted his head sideways. His clothes were completely different—new pants, t-shirt, and a jeans jacket, the price tag still hanging off the collar and one sleeve ripped from where he'd likely removed the anti-theft device. His sunglasses were cheap but still opaque, effective at hiding the eyes he didn’t want anyone to see. “Don’t have it anymore.”

“What?”

“Someone broke it,” he said. “Your programming skills aren’t half bad, you know? I couldn’t actually get into the thing.”

Kalinka stared at him. Then she punched him, hard, which was a mistake, because as human as his skin appeared, his bones were still metal, and hard. “Ow!”

“ _ Ow _ ,” he repeated, rubbing his arm. “What was that for?”

“You stole my phone and  _ broke  _ it,” she hissed. “How did you know where I go to school? This place is crawling with security drones, I’ll have you know!”

He smiled thinly. “I took an educated guess. You gonna call them on me?”

“I want a better explanation than that,” she said flatly, crossing her arms. Some of her passing classmates were staring curiously, but she ignored them. “And maybe.”

“One, this is the top school for international students and you clearly aren’t American,” he replied, eyebrow raised. “Two, this school specializes in technology with a focus on robotics—something you’re clearly well-versed in. I checked out a few other schools, but this one is right up your alley. It’s a good place to dump a troublemaker who clearly doesn’t get enough attention from her parents.”

Kalinka laughed. “And what makes you think you know anything about me?”

“I know you’re rich,” he said.

She was about to laugh again, but something about his tone stopped her. It was thoughtful, but in a nasty way, like he was considering doing something about her wealth. 

“You’re here because you want to make a deal, aren’t you?” Kalinka said. It was a statement, not a question. 

“You want to crack GAMMA, and I need it gone,” he said flatly. “I’ll help you get access to where you need to go, and you give me the key to shut the program down for good once you get what you’re looking for. You wanna call that a deal, then it’s fine by me.”

“And what’s stopping you from kidnapping me and forcing me to do your dirty work without living up to your end?” Kalinka asked. 

He grinned. “Nothing at all, little girl.”

She smiled at him, with teeth, and motioned for him to follow her. Within school grounds were a dozen of the security robots she mentioned, big burly things decorated with the school’s icon (a double-headed lion) and big eyes in an attempt to make them less intimidating to the students. Baseline, amateur stuff, really. 

“You want to know something about rich girls with fathers who don’t pay any attention to them?” she asked, pulling out her phone and plugging in a few commands. 

He raised both eyebrows at her this time. 

“You’re about to find out,” she said, pushing the button. 

The security drones stopped stiffly in their tracks. They marched to the center of the courtyard, and to the utter astonishment of the student onlookers, began to perform the male half of the Hopak dance, complete with surprisingly the graceful leaping kicks. 

The boy laughed hard, doubling over, still chuckling as the guards abruptly stopped dancing and drifted back to their originally programmed routes. “You really are something else,” he said, studying her thoughtfully.

Kalinka couldn’t help but grin back. The Hopak originated from the ancient Cossacks, and programming the guards to do it was like spray-painting her name on their backs, but that only mattered if Papa could pull his head out of his work long enough to notice. That wasn’t happening anytime soon.

She sobered her expression, and stuck out her hand. “Deal?”

He shook it, his grin sliding into a smirk at a joke she was finally in on. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ВЫПУСТИ МЕНЯ (VYPUSTI MENYA) translates to ‘let me out’ or ‘release me’, is from the CHERNOBURKV/CRASPORE album ЗАТМЕНИЕ (Eclipse). I tend to lean away from lengthy author’s notes these days, but there’s few things I want to point out:
> 
> The first, is Kalinka’s usage of diminutive names when thinking of her brothers indicates the ones she feels closer to (Dima/Dimitri/Dust Man, and Sasha/Alexei/Skull Man, versus only thinking of Ivan/Ring Man as ‘Ivan’ even though she will call him Vanya). This may be... important.
> 
> The second is that this being Ruby Spears universe-based, many of the Robot Masters are more human/less cartoonish than the games, and had other features that are show-only. Pharaoh Man has a cape in the show, for example, probably just to make him look cooler.
> 
> The third is that the characterization of Dr. Wily is different here than it is in Blind and the Broken and other older fics, even though I’m uploading both at the same time. Just keep that in mind as the story goes on!


	9. Chapter Seven: What’s a Devil To Do?

Proto waited in the darkness, bored, until the shadows across the street shifted to reveal the girl trying her best to be sneaky and failing. She was dressed the part—dark clothes, clearly new, probably designer. Her long hair was pulled back and tucked under a hood. It was the bare minimum, but hey, at least she was trying.

He leaned out from the nook he was tucked under, just enough to be seen, and spoke. “You’re late.”

Kali jumped and scowled deep as he chuckled at her. “That’s not funny. It’s not exactly easy for me to sneak out, you know.”

“Awww, mom and dad suddenly paying attention to you again?” He turned his back on her to fiddle with the alarm, keying in a set of commands in one of Wily’s more useful little devices. This one would render the entire alarm system useless, but anyone checking it from a remote computer would think it was still up and running. When the old man put his mind to it, his gadgets worked pretty well.

“No,” Kali said sharply, still stung. “And I don’t have a mom.”

“Me neither,” Proto said cheerfully, popping the door open. “Wouldn’t want one. After you!”

He gestured inside with a bow, leaving the girl no choice but to enter first. To her credit, she did without hesitating, ignoring his attempts to bait her. Proto still wasn’t happy about this little arrangement, but she kept surprising him. 

If tonight’s little test run went well, this might actually be fun.

“As much as I want to solve both our problems,” Kali said, frowning at him. “Why did we come back to the mall?”

“First, it’s the last thing they’ll expect,” Proto said. 

“That’s literally not true,” she retorted. “It’s called a—what is that phrase in English?”

“Second,” he continued pointedly. “Everyone thinks the only target was Cossack in the attack. Both the Light bots and the city police are on the job of protecting him, and they sure didn’t have the security drones to spare after Wily junked half of them. Do you really think I’d bring you all the way here if I didn't already know security was lax?”

“It’s called returning to the scene of the crime,” Kali said triumphantly. “It happens all the time in cop shows, and you can’t blame me for being cautious.”

“Ugh, you watch those?” Proto led the way to the second floor, pausing to look below. The debris from the attack had been cleared away, but the floor was clearly scorched, the shattered windows still taped off. He smirked. It was going to take those hoity-toity jerks some time to make everything seem perfect and safe again, and in the meantime they’d know just how easy their peaceful lives were broken. Served them right.

“ _ No _ . My brother does,” Kali said. She looked down as well, biting her lip at the damage. “And my point is still valid. You’re not even dressed for this.”

Proto still wore the clothes he met her in earlier. There hadn’t been much time to snag anything else.

“Oh,  _ sorry _ ,” he said. “I should have gone shopping for my fashionable crime-committing clothes with all the money I don’t have.”

“Don’t be a whiny ass,” she replied, and he laughed, surprising himself. Kid had spunk.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Kali continued, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Proto’s smirk turned into a grin. “Don’t you trust me?”

He was answered with a look of disgust and laughed again, the sound echoing hollowly through the building. They passed a few small bots on their way to the security room, but the helmeted drones merely beeped at them and shut down. The fools still hadn’t disconnected their bots from the central system, just as he’d been counting on.

The security room had none of the opulence of the mall it served, the walls bare concrete and covered with bright monitors. Their focus was on the innocuous-looking new computer in the corner, and Kali made a beeline for it, immediately getting to work. Proto leaned against the wall and watched the empty monitors. He quickly shut a few off when Kali’s back was thoroughly turned, the image of the sparking remains of a few cop bots flickering away. He wasn’t exactly telling the truth about how unguarded the place had been, but he didn’t want the girl to get cold feet before he saw what she could do.

Still, sitting here watching nothing was boring.

“Hey, can you unlock all the security gates on the storefronts from that computer?” he asked.

Kali jerked her head up to stare at him. She already had the GAMMA system open. His silhouette was lit up in bright red, flashing  **000** over it. Gritting his teeth, he quickly looked away.

“Yes,” she said suspiciously. “Why?”

“You’re the one who thinks my clothes suck,” Proto replied. “I’m going shopping.”

She opened her mouth to say something judgey, a look of outrage on her face, and shut it again as he smirked at her. 

“Got nothing to say when you’re already in the middle of committing a felony, huh?” he asked.

She frowned at him. “I’m going with you. This program can run on its own for awhile.”

He raised both eyebrows at her.

“You clearly have no taste and that jacket is two sizes too big for you,” she said, standing up and heading for the door. “If you’re going to steal, at least steal something decent.”

Proto followed, bemused. “I don’t know if I’m insulted or turned on.”

“ _ Gross _ ,” Kali snapped in Russian. “Don’t make me regret this immediately.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replied, but she ignored him, leading the way. She passed a few fashion stores and he slowed, but she only shook her head.

“Tacky, overpriced throwaway American garbage,” she said. “You’d be doing them a favor by stealing it.”

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re the stereotype of a foreign snob, you know that?”

Kali changed directions, leading him to an eyeglasses shop. “Oh hush,” she said, pausing in front of a display of sunglasses. “The first step is to get those cheap things off your face. How much are they, ten bucks?”

“It’s funny you think I actually checked the price,” Proto said, but he was smiling. This  _ was  _ fun, maybe the most he’d had in awhile. The only thing that would make it more perfect was if he had something to shoot.

Kali picked up a pair of running visors and held it out, one hand reaching for his face. Proto jerked back, swatting her hand away. 

“Baby,” she said. “I’ve already seen your eyes once, remember?”

“And once is all you’ll get,” he snapped, waving her away. “I can pick my own glasses.”

She rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the rest of the store. “Just don’t pick something atrocious.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Proto replied with a snort. He eyed the pair she picked, but the visor resembled his helmet too much. The whole goal of wearing human clothes was to not get pegged as a Wily-bot immediately. He settled for another pair of aviators, more rounded than his last ones, and slipped an extra pair in his pocket. Who knew when the next crazy chick was going to try to break his face, after all. 

“Good?” he asked.

“Hollywood,” Kali replied, shrugging.

“Do you hate everything American? Geez.”

“I don’t hate America,” she said defensively, leading the way to another store. This one had clothes, and he had to admit, she was right. The cut and quality of them was clearly better than the shops she'd passed up. “I just don’t like being here.”

“What, Russia’s that great?”

Kali picked up a jacket and eyed it, then swapped it for one in black. “Not really. I don’t know,” she admitted. “We lived in a pretty remote area. I’ve only been to Moscow a few times.”

“Then why the whole snob act?” Proto picked up a plaid shirt. She yanked it from his hands, and gave him a plain red one instead.

“I have... bad associations with America,” she said, waving a vague hand. “With the whole, I don’t know, under constant attack thing.”

“Dr. Wily,” he said, frowning at her. “You do realize you’re helping me stop the security system meant to shut him down, right?”

“The system is  _ wrong _ ,” she said, stamping her foot. “It singles out Robot Masters for something they didn’t even do! It won’t help make humans trust robots more, it’ll only make them more of a target. That’s not even what it was meant to do, anyway!”

“How do you know that?” he said suspiciously.

Kali thrust a pair of jeans at him. “Here, go change.”

“I mean it, how— _ skinny jeans _ ? Are you joking with me right now?”

“Go change,” she said firmly, giving him a shove. “Trust me.”

“I’m gonna look ridiculous,” Proto protested, but she clearly wouldn’t take no for an answer. Still grumbling, he found the changing room. Interesting kid. Clearly knew a lot more than she was saying. He was going to have to put more effort into figuring out just who ‘Kali Mikhailova’ was. He returned, still grumbling, to find her examining a bowl of fake candy by the cash register. “Well?”

“Plastic,” she said, picking up a piece. “See, this is what I mean. Why make plastic candy just for the aesthetic? Americans make no sense.”

“Why are you asking me?” he asked. “Are you gonna tell me how I look, or not?”

She studied him critically. “Very Hollywood,” she said at last.

“Seriously?”

“The skinny jeans look good,” Kali declared. “And that jacket actually fits your shoulders.”

“The skinny jeans do look good,” he admitted reluctantly. “They don’t feel as tight as I thought they would.”

Kali flicked a candy at him. He batted it away mid-air. “If you’re going to steal clothes, steal expensive ones,” she said pointedly. 

“Fine, Princess of Crime,” Proto replied with an eyeroll. “I admit it, you were right.”

“I’m always right,” she said smugly, flicking another candy at him. He bat that away too, and she followed him out of the store. Clothing accomplished, he needed something else to do. Maybe there was something expensive he could break.

Kalinka flicked another candy at his right shoulder, and he easily caught it. “You know, you never told me your name,” she said.

“Really? That’s a shame.”

He could feel her frown without even looking back at her. 

“You must have to have a name,” she said, exasperated. “I told you before, you don’t have to tell me your designation. That’s not a name.”

Proto snorted. “How many robots do you know who have a name beyond their designation?”

“All my brothers have names,” she replied, flicking another candy his way. This one was aimed at his left shoulder, and bounced off. He turned, but she just held up her hands to show she was out of candy.

“Stop that,” he said anyway. “Your brothers are robots?”

“Yes?” she replied, hesitating.

“That’s weird.”

“What? No, it’s not.” Another frown. She dug another candy out of her pocket and flicked it at his left side again. He saw it too late, and it hit his arm despite his attempt to dodge.

“You throw one more of those goddamn things at me and I’m gonna make you eat it,” he said. “You wanna play stupid games, go back to grade school.”

“I’m not playing a game,” she said matter-of-factly. “And if you don’t give me a name, I’ll have to make one up. I named all my brothers.”

Proto shook his head, turning his back to her again. “All your brothers? How many do you have?”

“Eight. No.” Her voice got quiet. “Seven.”

“Geez, how rich is your family?” Proto rolled his eyes. Every time she seemed decent, she played the rich girl card again. It was starting to piss him off. “Who the hell needs seven brainless bots for one house? Did you just name them after your dolls or what?”

“They’re not drones,” she said sharply. “And I choose their names very carefully. I bet I could come up with a good one for you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he pointed out, eyeing the stores they passed. Clothing store, bag store, nothing worth trashing. Nothing easy to pocket. Where the hell were all the jewelry stores? 

“I know you’re arrogant, cocky, and a braggart,” she said. “I know you think you’re hot stuff, as they say in America.”

“Nobody has said that since the  _ eighties _ , you gotta update your movie watching,” he replied, rolling his eyes again. “And anybody could figure that out, little girl.”

“I know that you’re blind in your left eye,” she said quietly.

Proto whirled on her so fast she barely had time to squeak before he had her against a wall, his grip tight enough to be hurting. “How,” he said in a low voice. “Do you figure that?”

“I—you’re hurting me!”

He loosened his grip, but held firm. “Tell me how you know that,  _ Kali _ .”

“You reacted to the candy I threw at your right side,” she snapped. “Not your left. I could see something flicker in your iris when I saw it earlier. I know how robotic eyes work. I know something’s  _ wrong _ .”

He let her go. “You even think about telling anyone…”

“I don’t even know who you are, remember?” Kali said sharply. Her voice softened. “Why don’t you just fix it?”

He sneered at her, leaning close. “This is not a partnership,” he hissed. “We aren’t friends, understand? You don’t need to know my name, you don’t need to know anything about me at all. You mind your own business, and I’ll mind mine. Press any more and the deal’s off, girl.”

“I—” She looked frustrated, angry even, but not scared. He wanted her scared, and he thought about doing something to make sure of that, but she looked away. “Fine.”

“Good,” he snapped, turning away. “I’m taking you back to the security room so we can wrap this shit up. This little date is off, got it?”

“Again, gross,” she muttered, pulling out her phone. “The program should be done by—”

The girl stopped, freezing in place. Proto turned back with a frown, but she didn’t move.

“What is it now?” he said, irritated again.

Kali finally looked up from her phone, her face a deadly pale. “We have to hide,” she whispered. “ _ Now _ .”

Proto grabbed her phone and tilted the screen toward him. On it flashed a rapidly approaching silhouette, the number  _ DCN-008 _ flashing above it. “Shit,” he hissed, grabbing her arm. “C’mon!”

Together they ran as quietly as they could. The bot was between them and the security room. Proto pulled Kali sideways, into one of those bizarrely fancy furniture stores. The girl was breathing too hard, she was going to get them both caught—he pulled her toward one of the beds, intending to stash her under it, but she froze, shaking her head fiercely. 

“Not the bed,” she whimpered. “Please, not the bed.”

Proto looked down at her, surprised, but there was no time to process that. He found an oversized wardrobe instead, and shoved them both inside. It was a tight fit even still, and he had to hold her close. She clung back, her heart wild against his chest, her breath too hot in his ear.

It was… distracting.

Proto shook his head and focused. Through the slats in the doors, he could just barely make out the showroom, but it was Kali who spotted the Robot Master first, her half-swallowed gasp still too loud. The robot was tall and imposing, his armor a strange black and white. He moved slowly through the store, not in a hurry. He knew they were there. Proto couldn’t get a clear look at him, but he knew the robot was built for battle with a frame like that.

The Robot Master stepped into his line of sight at last, and it was all Proto could do to keep himself from gasping too. His eyes seemed aflame with blue, giving the helmet he wore an even more frightening appearance. Proto hadn't seen him the first time, but he knew who he was looking at.

_ Skull Man _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skull Man's in-game number is DWN-032, which doesn't make any sense because Dr. Cossack built him, but game classification of Robot Master numbers is weirdly arbitrary like that. Ariga gave them DCN numbers in Megamix, and gosh darn it if I won't too.


	10. Chapter Eight: ЧЕРНОЕ ЛЕТО

Skull Man.

Kalinka had seen her brother only once in his armor before, when she was twelve. She had accidentally walked in on her father doing last-minute work on his gauntlets.

She had screamed. She couldn’t help it. With the unearthly glow of his eyes and the warped-yet-frightful skull that made up his helmet, the sight of him flashed her back to every nightmare she had since the others were taken. Even after he immediately dismissed it and became Sasha again, even after the both of them tried to comfort her, she couldn’t forget what she had seen. Sasha, her brother, was kind, soft-spoken, and thoughtful. Skull Man was a weapon, one meant to kill the one who hurt her.

The boy she was currently clutching.

Skull Man stopped, his gaze sweeping the room. She had no doubt he knew where they were, but he never looked directly at them. He was toying with them, like a cat with prey. Did he know she was here too?

Then he spoke, his voice echoing like it emerged from a deep grave. 

“You are playing a very dangerous game,” he said. “One you will not win.”

Kalinka’s arms tightened around the boy’s waist. Though he had a semblance of a pulse, he had no heartbeat she could feel—nothing but metal and wires underneath artificial skin, a bright and pulsing core buried somewhere beneath it all. The only thing he had that was anything like a heart. Nothing like a real one. Nothing that would cause him to care about anyone but himself.

Then the boy gently put his hand on her back, and pulled her back from the door, using his body as a shield. She looked at his face in surprise, but he had tilted it to watch Skull Man with his good eye.

Skull Man’s gaze continued to sweep the store. “This,” he said hollowly. “Is the only warning you will receive. The next time, Dr. Cossack will not be there to stop me.”

He turned, and started walking away. Just when Kalinka thought it safe to breathe again, he stopped by the door. 

“Next time, I will kill you.”

Skull Man left. The mall went silent and still, though Kalinka still breathed as shallowly as she could. The boy could hear what she couldn’t, and relaxed, tapping the hand that held her phone. She tilted the screen toward her face until she could see the GAMMA display. Her death grip on the boy eased. “He’s gone.”

“How far?” His voice was quiet.

“He’s just—gone. There’s no sign of him within three blocks,” she replied, baffled. Sasha was built for stealth, not speed. How had he vanished that quickly?

“Can he hide from the system?”

Kalinka shook her head. “No one can. That’s the point.”

Without another word, the boy hooked her arm and pulled her out of the store with him. Kalinka didn’t make a noise of protest until she saw they weren’t going back to the security room, but the exit. She tried to say something, but he shook his head, cutting her off. He didn’t let go until they were out and away from the mall, stopping in an alley.

“This is over,” he said, his back still to her. “We’re done.”

“What?” Kalinka sputtered. “You—we can’t! We still have a chance.”

“That thing knew we were there, Kali,” he replied sharply. “You heard him. We must have tripped an alarm, or you did something wrong by accessing GAMMA. Doesn’t matter. Deal’s off.”

Relief ran through her—if those were his only suspicions, her secret was still safe—but it was quickly followed by fury. “Fine, I’ll do it myself,” she said. “Coward.”

His head snapped toward her, just as she thought it would. “ _ Excuse me _ ?”

“I don’t need your help anymore,” Kalinka said, more calm. She held up her phone, pointing to a flash of scrolling data. “I’ve got what I need. I’ve unlocked the first security key to the system.”

He grabbed for it, but she was already prepared for that, yanking it away and slipping it inside her jacket.

“You know I can just take that from you, right?” he snapped.

“I said I had the  _ first  _ key,” she replied. “According to the data, there are three more locations that have the others. That’s why I couldn’t get in earlier, I need all the keys first.” 

Kalinka shook her head, turning away. “But if you want to quit now, fine. I can figure out the rest by myself.”

The boy grabbed her arm, but didn’t squeeze. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”

Kalinka looked back at him. “Won’t it?”

He stared at her for a long, silent moment. Then he let her go. 

“Tomorrow,” he snarled. “After school. You’d better have something for me then.”

She watched him storm off into the dark, and only when she was sure he was gone did she collapse to her knees, unable to hold herself upright any longer on her shaking legs. It was awhile before she could stand again.

#

Sneaking back home was a lot harder than sneaking out. The cab she hailed had a human driver, not the robotic one she was expecting, and he asked way too many questions about why such a young girl was out so late. Kalinka made up some story about getting into a fight with her divorced dad and returning to her mom’s house on the fly. He bought it, too easily, and dropped her off a few blocks from her temporary new home. She waved until he was out of sight, trying not to let the guilt stab her too deep.

_ You have a good heart, Kashenka _ , Sasha told her once, his gaze piercing even when it did not glow.  _ But you can be manipulative, and there is cruelty in that, no matter how well-intended you may be. _

She hadn’t understood what he meant at the time. She did now, but it was too late. She was doing this for the right reasons. She wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. She could make her penance after she succeeded.

If she succeeded.

There was no sign of Ivan when she unlocked the front door. He was still with Papa then, being overprotective and stubborn. No sign of Sasha. That made her more uneasy. Did he follow her after all, or could the boy be right about tripping some unknown alarm? Did Sasha really have a way to hide from GAMMA, a secret loophole to Papa’s perfect system? It would make sense. Sasha wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t even supposed to  _ exist _ . If Papa built a secret way to hide her brother, then he was betraying the core purpose of the GAMMA system.

But that wouldn’t be the first time, would it?

“Kashenka.”

Kalinka yelped, spinning on her heels, but it was only Dima, his wide mournful eyes watching in the dark.

“ _ Gosbodi _ , Dima!” she exclaimed. “I thought you were—”

But she didn’t want to say who she thought he was, as if speaking the name would instantly summon Sasha in his skull armor, eyes ablaze.

“Are you going to tell?” she asked in a small voice.

Dima blinked at her. “Are you being safe?”

Kalinka bit her lip. “I’m trying.”

“Then I will not tell,” he said. “Go rest, Kashenka. The weariness under your eyes will bring more questions than mine.”

Kalinka nodded and left before her brother could change his mind. She was exhausted, but she doubted she would sleep. There were too many nightmares in the world, and not enough hours to chase them into the black.

#

The sound of battle stopped, but Kalinka didn’t dare move out from under the bed. The wound on her head throbbed, but she knew not to touch it, for fear of making it worse. Someone was coming closer. Someone with metal feet, walking too light. Kalinka tried to scramble free, knowing it was not one of her brothers, but it was too late. The hands that grabbed her were hard and firm, and no amount of struggling would ever set her free.

“Got you,” Proto Man said, smirking down at her. “Take it easy, little girl, this won't take long.”

Kalinka did not take it easy. She screamed and spit and kicked with all her might, but Proto Man handled her like she was nothing more than a doll, hauling her through the house and back to the lab. There were robots she didn’t recognize, robots she’d never forget—Cut Man, Guts Man, Metal Man, Ice Man. There were some of her brothers, no sign of the rest, lying on the floor. Broken. Vadim, his bulb smashed. Leonid, his drill arms shattered. Ivan, not a scratch on him, lying on his side, eyes open and dead. Papa, tied and gagged, looking at her in horror.

And Dr. Wily.

Triumphant, the mad scientist stalked over to her, crowing. “Finally!” he said. “We just need one last little robot, and we’ll be on our way. Won’t you help us with that, little Kalinka?”

He brought a hand to her face, as if to cup her chin.

“Careful, doc,” Proto Man said. “She’s a little—”

Kalinka bit down on Dr. Wily’s hand hard, not letting go until she tasted blood. He flew back with a yowl.

“—Hellcat,” Proto Man finished.

Wily swore in German, something violent, and looked furious enough to hit her. Proto Man shook his head once, and Wily didn’t.

(Was she remembering that right? Or was it wishful thinking, the present trying to override the past, softening memories with little mercies? She had to remember the truth. She had to stay  _ focused _ .)

Wily grumbled, pulling away, and raised his voice to a shout. “Pharaoh Man! I know you haven’t fled, you’re not a coward. Come out and save your precious Cossacks, or live with their blood on your hands?”

“Don’t overdo it,” Proto Man said, but he sounded bored already. Guts Man and Cut Man were grabbing Ivan and Vadim, dragging them out of her sight.

“Where are you taking them?” Kalinka cried, but no one paid any attention to her. She kicked Proto Man again, but her efforts were useless.

Guts Man came back and threw Leonid’s body over his shoulder. He didn’t pay attention to any of the pieces dropping from her brother’s damaged arms, or the way his eyes sparked and shorted out. Kalinka wanted to sob, but her eyes were dry and hollow.

“Pharaoh Man!” Wily called again. “You have to the count of five, or I’ll have Proto Man make some personality adjustments to the girl… using his blaster, of course.”

“Seriously?” Proto Man muttered. Kalinka was the only one who heard it.

“One!” Wily shouted. “Two!”

Ptolemy appeared behind Ice Man. He’d lost one arm and his cape was torn clean away, but he grabbed the smaller Robot Master from behind and smashed his face so hard into the steel wall that it broke, revealing circuits and wires underneath.

Wily and his robots nervously stepped back as her brother tossed Ice Man away. “I’m here, Wily,” Ptolemy said. “And I will make you regret this.”

“Now this is the strength I need,” Wily said, recovering fast. “Surrender, Pharaoh. Join me and my army, and we’ll see what the power can truly do.”

Ptolemy spat something vile at him in Russian, but the doctor either didn’t understand or didn’t care.

“Come now,” Wily said smoothly. “This is almost over. Come with us, and we’ll let Dr. Cossack and his little girl go.”

Ptolemy’s eyes slid from Papa to Kalinka. “Let them go,” he said. “And I will come in peace.”

“In peace?” Wily replied, stroking his chin. “No, I think I would prefer you in pieces, just to be safe. Metal Man?”

Too late, Kalinka realized what the Robot Master’s blades were for. Too late, she realized Ptolemy was not going to fight back. She screamed, but it wasn’t enough to drown out her brother’s body breaking. 

#

The boy was waiting for her at the school gate. He looked as happy to see her as she did him—not at all.

“Well?” he said.

Kalinka stopped to examine him. Without his bulky protective armor and helmet, it was easy to fool herself into thinking he wasn’t the same Proto Man who had helped shatter her family. Even his voice, as nasally and grating as it was, sounded different. Less confident. He thought he shielded himself so well, but from the way he slouched in human clothes to the way he kept having to stop himself from tilting his head to see better out of his good eye revealed vulnerabilities he wasn’t even aware he had. 

She could let herself be taken in by that, she supposed. Let his good looks and surprising charm get to her like they would any other girl. It could be fun to pretend he was the mysterious boyfriend her classmates thought him to be. But he wasn’t. He was a machine made for destruction. He was her improbable key to getting everything she wanted.

And if she had to break him in as many pieces as they did her brother to do it, she would. Without hesitation.

“I’ve got the data,” she said. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosbodi (Господи) is a very common exclamation that can be translated a few different ways, but the easiest equivalent to how Kalinka's using it is 'Oh my god!.' ЧЕРНОЕ ЛЕТО (CHERNOYE LETO) translates to 'Black Summer' is from The Toxic Avenger's Midnight Resistance album (check it out, it's good!).


	11. Chapter Nine: Better Days

A tacky Starbucks on some gentrified corner in Brooklyn was not Proto’s idea of a great location to plan their next crime, but he let Kali take charge, his mind still preoccupied from the night before. Skull Man, the weird glitch in the GAMMA system. What the girl knew—too much—and what she didn’t—still a mystery. Trying to threaten it out of her wouldn’t work, he knew. She was as cool as a cucumber again, sketching a grid-like pattern over a map of the city, ignoring the way he watched her.

She slipped up most when she was trying to get him to talk—no mother, seven robotic brothers, from some isolated part of Russia. All clues that maddeningly went nowhere. Plenty of rich kids had robotic servants. Not drones, she said, but he doubted that. Dr. Light’s latest models could seem human on the surface, but only Robot Masters were complex enough to think for themselves, and Robot Masters were industrial bots. Most of them, anyway. He'd never figured out what Toad Man was meant to do.

Skull Man, of course, was not an industrial bot. He was a weapon, one not made by Wily. If he belonged to Dr. Cossack, he violated several international laws just by existing. But Proto didn’t know what to do with that information. One thing at a time. He’d bring this all to Wily as soon as he had something solid, something the old man couldn’t belittle or dismiss.

In the meantime, that meant playing the game. He tapped the map. “This is…?”

Kali swatted his finger with her pen. “A simplification of how the system works,” she said, taking a sip of her overpriced drink and immediately making a face at it.

“Why did you buy that if you don’t like it?” he asked.

“The more overpriced, the longer the staff leaves you alone,” she said. “They kick the cheapskates out quick. Can you even drink yours?”

Proto had picked the first thing he spotted on the menu, never bothering to figure out what it was. Wasn’t like he was paying for it.

“Maybe, but it’d gum up my systems,” he admitted. “Couldn’t taste it.”

“Would you want to?” she asked, looking more interested. “There’ve been some advances in incorporating taste to improve scenting systems.”

“What, so I can drink this?” Proto lifted the drink. He should have been paying attention when ordering. There were pink bits of _something_ floating in it. “I’d rather die.”

“That can be arranged,” Kali replied darkly. 

He laughed, short and surprised. There were teeth in that remark. She must really be rattled by last night, and that wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

“So the grid is...?” he asked, gesturing back at the table.

Kali looked down, all business again. “GAMMA’s network. It scans the city in sections and sends all the data back to…” She pauses, circling a point on the map. “Four centralized points. The first was the mall, but they’ve shut that down. I think it was merely a testing site.”

“So where are the others?” he asked, trying not to sound bored. Too many details, not enough action. Why couldn’t this be resolved by shooting more things?

“New York Central Bank,” Kali said, circling another spot on the map. “We don’t need to break into their security, not with the first key. All we have to do is get close enough. The other key signal is coming from somewhere outside the city…?”

Proto barely glanced at the map. “Light’s lab,” he said. “Not surprising.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said with some satisfaction, circling the spot again. “It won’t be so easy to get close without suspicion. He’s bound to have extra protection.”

“We’ll deal with it,” he replied with a shrug. “The third?”

Kali bit her lip, and put the pen down. “I’m not sure I want to tell you that.”

“Okay, seriously?” Proto sat back in his chair, arms crossed. “I know last night went poorly, but you can’t hold it against me forever.”

“You slammed me against a wall,” she pointed out. “And that robot was there to _kill you_.”

“What makes you so sure I was the one he was threatening?” Proto replied flippantly. 

Kali’s gaze hardened. “Do you really think I don’t know what a zero designation means?” she asked quietly. “Just because we’re both pretending I don’t know who you are doesn’t make it true.”

The air between them was silent and sharp. Proto’s grip on his crossed arms flexed.

“Fine,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Kali looked startled. “You’re sorry?”

“Sorry for…” He gestured at her vaguely. He had grabbed her pretty hard, but she was wearing long sleeves, and he couldn’t tell if he left bruises. “I don’t want… people knowing about it.”

“Your eye,” she said.

He flinched. “Yeah.”

Kali stared at him for a moment. “Like I said before, who am I gonna tell?”

Proto tried to smile at that, but it died on his lips. “Yeah?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” she said, folding her hands under her chin. “Tell me your name, and we’re even.”

Damn. He should have known she wasn’t going to let that go. This was not the position he wanted to be in, but it was the only tactic that worked. “I was never given one.”

“Oh,” she said. It was small and pitying, and he wanted nothing more than to fling the table aside and show her what he _really_ was. He didn’t need her pity, he didn’t need to be coddled by people pretending he was just as good as a human. He wasn’t his _brother_. He was better than human, stronger, faster. He could be blinded in both eyes and still be a million times better.

“We can fix that,” she said, interrupting his train of thought.

“What?”

“Give you a name. You can pick one out yourself, you know.”

Proto blinked at her, still trying to disassemble the thoughts in his head. “What, like… anything?”

“Anything you want,” she said with a smile. 

He thought about it, then shrugged. “How about Joe?”

Kali immediately made a face. “ _Ew_.”

“Hey, you said I could pick anything I want!”

“But you aren’t, you’re pickin the first thing you thought of,” she pointed out. “Besides, Joe? It’s too boring. Too American.”

“You are a total snob,” Proto retorted, but he was smiling again. “How did you name your brothers?”

Her grin turned mischievous. “I gave them strong, proper Russian names. Ivan, Alexei, Vadim—”

“Ugh, never mind,” he said, making a shooing motion at her. “I don’t want a ‘strong Russian’ name.”

“I gave them names that I thought fit them,” Kali replied. “You should do that too. It doesn’t have to be a human one.”

“What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “You can pick a number or letter you like, or an animal. It could be something musical.”

It took him a second, his mood instantly dropping. “Like Rock and Roll? _Please_.”

Kali rolled her eyes. “I was thinking Blues, actually.”

“Are you off your rocker?” he demanded. “I don’t even like blues music. It’s boring.”

“What kind of music do you like?” she asked, rolling her eyes. 

“Old school rock,” he said instantly. “Metallica, Iron Maiden, that kinda stuff. What?”

She was smiling at him. “Nothing,” she said. “It’s kind of cute?”

“Cute,” Proto repeated. Something was distracting him, an intrusive thought that kept snaking into his mind. She looked nice when her smile was genuine. He wanted to make her do that more.

It was a stupid thought, and he buried it with a scowl. “Lemme guess,” he said. “You don’t want to tell me the third location because that’s where good ol’ Dr. Cossack is holed up?”

She blinked, her guarded expression snapping back into place. “It's not a mall we can break into or a public bank. It’ll be under heavy guard, and they’ll see us coming for miles. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Proto smirked unpleasantly. “I have my methods.”

“”When I say I don’t want anyone else getting hurt, that includes you,” Kali said sharply.

“Me?”

“Skull Man said he would kill you, and he meant it,” she said, staring at him intently. “Don’t be so eager to die just to prove how tough you are.”

Proto let a silent beat pass, considering challenging that. He could take on Skull Man. He could take on _anyone_. But there seemed to be actual concern in her eyes, and that was… new. He let it go.

“So we’re dead in the water,” he said. “It’s hopeless.”

Kali bit her lip. “All four keys are ideal, but I can maybe break in with three.”

“I can’t waste my time on maybe,” he snapped. “Yes or no, Kali.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she said. “The bank is easy. If you can get us into Light’s lab, I can crack GAMMA with only three codes.” 

She held her hand out. “Deal?”

He smirked and took it. “Deal.”

#

It took Wily less than five seconds to ruin Proto’s good mood. 

“Where,” he snapped, finger prodding Proto’s visor. “Have you _been_?”

Proto leaned back slightly. He'd summoned his armor well before returning to Skull Fortress. He didn’t particularly care to wander the halls without it, not after what happened to his room, and the familiar rush of relief when his visor flicked on and expanded his range of vision was always a boost. He’d modified it himself, but there were drawbacks. Connecting everything to one eye put a strain on his systems. He usually didn’t get hit hard enough for it to have much of an effect, but Skull Man’s attack had rattled him. 

Wily could fix it, he knew. Wily could fix his eye, and the visor work-around wouldn’t be necessary. But Wily was not to know his Second-in-Command had _any_ weakness, fixable or not. Even if keeping that weakness a secret might get him killed.

“Trying to pin down Dr. Cossack,” Proto replied. “If we can figure out where he’s squirreled himself away—”

“If you’re going to be completely useless, I’ll have to rely on _Wood Man_ to get anything done around here,” Wily snapped. “I’ve tolerated your slacking for this long, Proto Man—”

Another lecture, great. “The machine you built doesn’t block Cossack’s GAMMA system, does it?” he asked, interrupting.

Wily’s nostrils flared as the rage in his eyes burned, and it was only then Proto realized what a bad idea it would be to tell the man that a teenage girl was knocking him out of the park when it came to the GAMMA system. It was a bad idea to tell him anything Proto had been doing for the last few days.

“Look, doc, you’ll get it,” he said soothingly. “You always do, remember? Cossack’s got nothing on you. He’s just some shitty programmer—”

“He was a roboticist,” Wily said. “A good one, though his Robot Masters failed me in the end.”

“He built Robot Masters?” Proto asked slowly. “And we stole them?”

Wily gave him a strange look. “Yes, of course we did, though obviously that wasn’t enough. I really should have done something to that brat of a daughter of his—”

Several things clicked into a horrible place in Proto’s mind. Seven brothers, Kali had said.

 _But there had once been eight_.

“I gotta check on something, doc,” he said calmly. “Don’t strain yourself in the meantime, okay? Cossack’s going down one way or another. No one pulls a stunt like this on us and gets away with it.”

Wily smiled, sharp and cruel, mollified. “No, he most certainly will _not_.”

Proto left the room with a flip of his hand, careful to clench his fists only when he was out of sight of the doctor. No one used him like this and got away with it. This was going to end in pain, and he was the one going dealing it out. A secondary terminal well out of Wily’s sight only confirmed it. Ring Man, Dust Man, Toad Man, Bright Man, Dive Man, Drill Man. Cossack bots, once Wily’s, lost in various missions over the years.

All except for Pharaoh Man. 

He should have put this all together much, much sooner. But of course it had slipped his mind. They had stolen so many Robot Masters raids that they all ran together. Why would he remember one Russian scientist out of dozens? Why would a single traumatized girl stick out of a litany of frightened children? He didn’t realize who Kali— _Kalinka_ —was because she had been nothing special. He had done it a thousand times over, never once thinking there’d be consequences.

And now Kalinka Cossack’s father was ruining his life.

“It’s about time you figured it out.”

Proto spun, swinging his fist, but Shadow Man ducked away and out of his range. 

“Don’t you ever sneak up on me again,” he snarled, pointing his blaster at Shadow Man’s chest. “Or it’ll take months to find all of your circuits.”

The Robot Master merely crossed his arms and gave Proto a patient look. “What are you going to do now?”

“About Pharaoh Man? I’m going to track him down and dismantle him for destroying my stuff,” Proto snapped.

“About the girl.” Shadow Man held up a single finger as Proto opened his mouth. “Don’t bother with the ‘what girl’ routine, prototype. I’m a _spy_.”

Proto hissed, irritated. “Does the old man know?”

“I only give Wily the information he knows to ask for,” Shadow Man replied. “No, not yet, though you’re making him suspicious. Do you even realize how precarious your situation is?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Proto said. He wanted nothing more than to leave, but the last thing he would do right now was turn his back on creepy robot.

“I’ll give you two more weeks before you face open rebellion,” Shadow Man mused. “Maybe less before you’re directly challenged for Second in Command for your disloyalty. Crystal Man seems to think he’s got what it takes.”

“That’s _completely_ insane,” Proto replied. “Who the hell is spreading rumors that I’ve been disloyal? If this is still over the Deacon thing, I swear I’ll—”

“Wily.”

Proto stopped cold. “What?”

Shadow Man tilted his head. His look remained neutral, but Proto could feel the pity in it. “Wily is the one spreading the rumors that you’re looking to defect.”

“I—I don’t—” Several crushing things were happening to his insides, but his systems were fine. Everything was fine. Why did he feel like someone was ripping his core out of his chest if everything was fine?

“For once in your life, _think_ ,” Shadow Man said, no longer patient. “Wily sent you on a mission that could have tempted you away from his side. He realized that, too late, and now he’s scrambling to overcompensate.”

“I never had a single thought about defecting,” Proto said, his voice strained. “Not once. He—he knows that.”

“Not yet,” Shadow Man said darkly. “But Dr. Wily needs to be sure you never will, even if he has to use fear to do it. You’re no longer immune to his wrath, Proto Man, and when he finds out what else you’ve hidden from him…”

The Robot Master pointed to his own left eye, slow and deliberate, before dropping his hand. “Decide what you’re doing with the girl soon, or you won’t have much choice in what happens next.”

Without another word, Shadow Man slipped back into the darkness that was his namesake. He left Proto alone in the wreckage of his own thoughts.


	12. Chapter Ten: Грустный Дэнс

Kalinka woke to find Sasha peering down at her and, quite reasonably, screamed. Her brother leaned away as she sat bolt upright and yelled as many English curses at him that she could think of.

“Where did you learn those?” he said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Ivan’s movies,” she snapped, throwing a pillow at him. “Why are you in my room?”

“I wanted to be sure you were actually here,” he replied, picking up the pillow calmly. His white hair was carefully quaffed and his clothing was impeccably professional, but it was never quite enough to obscure the skull of his face. “Lately that has not always been a guarantee.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Dima may be willing to ignore your secrets, but I am not so trusting,” Sasha said. “What have you been doing, Kalinka? What is so terrible that it must be kept a secret from your own family?”

 _He doesn’t know_ . Relief flooded through her limbs and made them weak. Sasha had not been tracking her movements after all. He didn’t know she was at the mall. But the relief she felt soon chilled as she met the hard look in Sasha’s eye. Lying wouldn’t work. _I’ve been spending time with the robot who destroyed our family and I think he’s kinda cute_ wouldn’t either.

“I’m not telling you,” she replied calmly. “I’m not hurting anyone, but it’s something I have to do on my own without you or Ivan breathing down my neck. I’m sorry, but that’s how it has to be.”

“Very well,” Sasha replied, folding his arms. “You are grounded.”

“You can’t do that,” she cried. “Papa—”

“Has given me the authority to make such decisions,” Sasha said. “And will no doubt agree with me once he hears about what you’ve been up to after dinner tonight with the Lights.”

“You _can’t_ —” Kalinka paused. “What dinner?”

“We are meeting Dr. Light and his children for dinner tonight,” Sasha replied. “Which you would know about if you had been home like you should be. Ivan will pick you up after school. You will dress nicely, and you will _behave_ when we meet them at the restaurant. Afterwards, we will all have a talk. Is that understood?”

Kalinka just glared at him. Her brother turned to leave, pausing at the door.

“Kashenka,” he said. “I am your brother, not your jailer. I only wish to understand what is going on with you. I will not judge you for it. I do not want to do this.”

She folded her arms and said nothing. With a sigh, Sasha left and shut the door behind him. Quickly, she pulled out her phone and sent off a text.

_Central Bank. Two hours._

#

“You know,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Skipping school, breaking into malls… keep this up, and you’ll have a life of crime yet.”

Kalinka glared at the boy. She refused to think of him as ‘Joe’ and couldn’t think of him as Proto Man, not when he looked like this. So in her head, ‘the boy’ he would remain—at least until he picked a better name. 

“I don’t _want_ to have a life of crime,” she replied. “I won’t be doing any of this in the near future.”

“Boring,” he replied, eyebrows arching above his sunglasses as he rolled his eyes. “Is this gonna take forever?”

Kalinka glanced at the bank across the street. They were loitering outside a bodega, its garish colors clashing with the upscale shops surrounding it. It was the only safe place to linger without suspicion, but she was having trouble maintaining a connection with the distance. The last time she was here, one of the clerks caught her picking the lock on the backdoor. She couldn’t risk getting recognized.

“Have places to be?” she asked. 

The boy shifted, looking uncomfortable. “I just need this over with soon.”

Something about his tone threw her off. She was about to ask more questions, but his body language was tense and closed off. He would only lash out again if she pried.

“Okay,” she said. She turned her attention back to her phone, watching him pick up a bruised apple and play with it. It was even harder to think of him as what he really was when he acted like any other teen. Maybe he had some attention problems, a flaw in his programming. A temper, but only when he felt like he lost control. He didn’t _have_ to be what he was now.

The boy lifted his head and caught her staring at him. “What?”

Kalinka jerked her head down to her phone, like she had been caught doing something bad. “What are you going to do when this is over?”

“Go back to my regular life,” he said, giving her a blank look. “What else would I do?”

Kalinka hesitated, but decided to drop it. “I’ll need to get closer to finish this. Think you can not act suspicious for five minutes?”

He cracked a grin at last, tossing the apple into its pile, probably just bruising it more. “I think I can manage that. Why are you in such a hurry to do this now, anyway?”

They crossed the street and stood close to the building, and Kalinka motioned him closer, tilting her phone to pretend she was showing him something on the screen. 

“We have to break into the lab tonight,” she said in a low voice.

“Hang on, that kinda thing takes planning,” he protested.

Kalinka shook her head. “No, you were right. We have to get this over with soon. The Lights won’t be home tonight, and there’ll be no better time.”

The boy gave her an odd look. “How do you know that?”

“I—” Kalinka glanced over his shoulder, her eyes widening in horror. “Oh, shit.”

To his credit, he very casually glanced over his shoulder, but he didn’t see what she did. Ivan coming their way, intently scanning the crowd. Looking for her. “What is it?”

Kalinka swore again in Russian. They were either tracking her again, or knew she would return to the bank eventually. Either way, she couldn’t afford being caught now. “Okay, um—you’ve seen those action movies, right? Where they almost get caught, and, uh, they have to do something to get their pursuers to ignore them?”

The boy only looked at her. Kalinka bit her lip, but Ivan was getting closer. She had to do something.

“Just play along,” she said. Before he could reply, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. 

He stiffened, and she was afraid he would push her away. Instead, he slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, tilting her toward the wall. The kiss was—fine. Not good, maybe—he was too soft and hesitant—Kalinka had never kissed anyone like this before, and she was probably bad at it too, but it was—nice. Really nice.

Kalinka finally pulled away, flushed and breathless. The boy couldn’t blush, as far as she could tell, but his breathing was just as jerky. Ivan was nowhere in sight.

“It worked,” she said. “He’s gone.”

The boy opened his mouth as if to say something, but he only closed it again. Abruptly, they both realized they were still embracing and fumblingly pulled apart. Kalinka’s phone beeped, and she glanced at the screen.

“Oh,” she said. “It worked. We have the code.”

“Like the _movies_ ,” he said finally.

“Let’s get out of here before he comes back,” she muttered, surging ahead before he could see how red her face was.

“That was the only warning you could have given me?” he demanded, following.

“I panicked!” Kalinka protested. “I forgot the English.”

“I understand _Russian_ ,” he replied. “Seriously, that was the only thing you could think of?”

“Are you saying you didn’t like it?” She was still flushed, but the temptation was too great. “I didn’t steal your first kiss, did I?”

“I— _no_ —what are you even—” She didn’t think it was possible for the boy to get more flustered, but it was. He almost tripped over his own feet to catch up with her. “Who, exactly, would I have practiced with?”

Kalinka grinned. “Don’t you have a lot of...coworkers?”

“Yeah, and most of them are idiots!” he snapped.

“Seriously?” she asked. “There’s no one you consider attractive? I know there’s not a lot of female Robot Masters, but I didn’t think gender mattered to robots much.”

The boy paused, too long. “ _No_ ,” he said, in a tone she did not believe at all.

Kalinka thought about going easy on him. For two seconds.

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re a _virgin_ ,” she said.

The boy stopped dead in his tracks, causing several people to nearly run into him. They ducked around, cursing, but he still didn’t move.

Kalinka blinked innocently at him. “What? There’s no shame in being a virgin. A lot of people—”

“Stop. Talking.” His voice was high and strangled. “Just stop.”

Kalinka hid her grin behind a hand. “Okay.”

“I’m _serious_ ,” he snapped. “If you even think for one moment—”

“Is this really what you’ve been up to, Kashenka?”

Kalinka whirled and walked backwards into the boy, who caught her by the shoulders. Standing there was Ivan, a deep scowl on his face.

“Cutting class, sneaking out at night, all for some boy?” he continued, his voice raising in anger.

“That’s not what this is,” she said weakly. The boy pushed her behind him, hands up as if trying to make peace, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. 

“Isn’t it?” Ivan barked. He stepped closer, giving the boy a look of disgust. “This doesn’t concern you, kid. When Papa hears of…”

Ivan’s voice trailed off, confused. “I _know_ you,” he said, staring hard at the boy. His eyes went wide. “Proto—”

“Always knew you were a narc, Ring Man,” the boy said. 

Then he shoved Ivan into an oncoming bus. 

Kalinka screamed—she tried to scream—but the boy had his arms around her waist and was half-dragging, half-carrying her down the street.

“We gotta go!” he snapped, but she continued to fight him. 

Kalinka kicked him. In response, he pulled her into an alley, tucking her close, and leaped, bounding against each wall until they reached the roof. He let her go then, but she continued to flail against him, fists aching every time she hit his hard shoulders.

“Stop,” he said, pushing her arms aside. “Kalinka, _stop_.”

“You shoved my brother into traffic!” she snapped, swinging at him. 

“He was going to get us caught!” The boy caught her hand and gently shoved her away. “He’s a _combat robot_. He’ll be fine.”

“You—” She bit her lip, stepping back. “You called me Kalinka.”

“I’m not the only one who can put two-and-two together,” he said, smiling humorlessly. He leaned over to check the street below, then leaned back. “Better stay up here for awhile.”

Kalinka looked frantically, but they were too far away to see if Ivan was okay. She breathed in deep. The boy was right. Ivan was built for such blows, even without his armor. She had seen him take harder hits from Ptolemy during training, back when fighting was fun to watch and she didn’t understand what it was all for. The boy relaxed, sitting down against the rooftop door. After a moment, she moved to join him.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said.

The boy shrugged. “They’re gonna think I kidnapped you, you know.”

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, no!”

He shook his head. “No, that’s good. Gives you an alibi. Say you didn’t know who I was. Tell them I made you do this.”

Kalinka scowled at him. “My father won’t fall for that for a second.”

“You don’t need to fool your father, you need to fool the cops,” he explained patiently. “Trust me, you don’t want ‘known associate of a Wilybot’ on your record.”

Kalinka fell silent for a moment. He looked at her sideways. “What?”

“I’m never going to see you again,” she said. “Am I?”

“This isn’t who I really am, Kali,” he said quietly. 

That shouldn’t be upsetting. This was the whole goal of their temporary alliance. She glared at him anyway, trying to ignore the sting in her eyes. “Isn’t it?”

“It isn’t,” he said. “I’m the right hand man of the world’s most notorious terrorist. I’m a combat robot, not—whatever this is. I’m—I’m the one who—”

“Helped destroy my family,” she finished icily. “I know. My nightmares won’t let me forget it, even if I tried.”

He struggled visibly to think of a reply and failed, hooking his arms around his knees in an uneasy silence. The fire she felt instantly faded as she studied him. He looked every bit the teenage boy her mind kept mistaking him to be, small and uncertain. 

“Haven’t you ever wanted to be anything different?” Kalinka asked quietly.

“No,” he said sharply. “And my brother’s made it quite clear what’ll happen to me if I try. I’ll get ‘reprogrammed for good.’” His voice reverted to a pitch perfect imitation of Mega Man when he quoted him. “I’m not gonna let anyone crack open my circuits and change who I am, got it? And even if I could escape that, I—”

His voice cracked, and he looked away from her. “I already blew it,” he said bitterly. “So no, I don’t want anything different.”

Kalinka narrowed her eyes at him. “You pretended to be good to trick the governor and replace him with a robot double,” she said. “And now he’s using Papa’s system to make sure that can never happen again. This really is your fault.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” he muttered. “I was just—”

“Doing what you were told,” she said. “Because the consequences never mattered to you before.”

The boy hunched more, his arms tightening on his knees. “Yeah.”

“Do you like it?” she asked, her voice getting sharp. “Do you like hurting people?”

“I _don’t_ —I’m not Wily,” he snapped. “It’s not like that. It’s just… easier not to think about it. I never meant to…”

“Hurt me?” she finished. “Just because you know me now, that makes it all different?”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” he said. “Wily said you’d get over it, and I believed him. Most people do, you know? They lose a bot, they get a new one. We’re not people, Kali. We’re things.”

Kalinka stared at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he added, and she didn’t want to believe him, but he said it in that same hesitant tone he used when he didn’t realize how vulnerable he was being. 

“I’m still going to be mad at you for it,” she said.

He shrugged half-heartedly. 

Her shoulders relaxed, just a little. “For the record, I don’t consider you a thing. You’re as much a person as anyone else is.”

He tilted his head toward her. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t kiss a drone,” she said hotly. “Though you need practice with that.”

“Are you volunteering?” he asked, bemused. 

Kalinka gave a little shriek and shoved him. “In your twisted little dreams!”

“My dreams are perfectly pleasant, thank you,” he replied, batting her hand away. 

Kalinka was about to reply, but her phone lit up with message alerts. From Ivan, from Sasha. She quickly turned it off and put it in her pocket. 

“Listen,” she said slowly. “We can still do this. Papa was going to meet the Lights anyway. If he tells them you took me—”

“—They’ll drop everything to help find you,” the boy said slowly. “But they’ll probably think I took you straight to Wily. It’s still a risk.”

“I think they can track my phone. If you can steal me a new one, we can use this to lead them astray,” she said. “We’re out of time. It’s tonight or never.”

The boy leaned back, thinking about it. “We use the phone to throw them off. We crash the lab. You give me the keys to dismantle the program, we go our separate ways. You tell dear old dad you gave that horrible Proto Man the slip. It could work.”

Kalinka rolled her eyes. “ _Tomorrow_ you can go back to being that horrible Proto Man, and I’ll be the gullible little Russian girl who had no idea she was being led astray by such a bad bot.”

He chuckled. “All right, so what does that make us today?”

“Today,” Kalinka said slowly, thinking about it. “Today we’re friends.” She offered her hand. “Okay?”

The boy smiled at her, and shook it. “I think I can live with that.”

“I’m not calling you Joe,” she added. “I still think that’s a stupid name.”

He rolled to his feet with a laugh. “I’m never answering to Blues, I’m telling you that right now. Not gonna happen. Ready for one more day of crime before you go back to being an innocent angel?”

“In your gross little dreams,” Kalinka replied, but she followed him as he laughed, a smile tugging on the corner of her mouth.


	13. Interruption: 21:10

“If you’re not going to talk to us, Proto Man,” Agent Stern says, shuffling through more papers. “I’m going to have to fill in the details myself.”

Proto blinks at him. Hadn’t he been talking? No, not to Stern. He’d been talking to Kalinka, on the roof. Laughing at something she said, sometime in the past. The end was coming, and it could not come sooner. Robots could lose their minds, after all. 

Agent Krantz looks over at the papers in her partner’s hands and pales. “I don’t think—” she starts.

“We’re out of time,” he says, cutting her off. “I have no other options.”

Krantz bites her lip and looks away. He follows this with only mild interest, until Stern flips the paper around.

It’s not a report. It’s a picture of nothing but bone and blood. 

“Do you know what a blaster shot does to a human body?” Stern asks quietly. 

Proto sucks in a breath and tries to hold it, but it escapes in a low keening sound. He twists his head to the right.

“Do  _ not  _ turn away from me, I know damn well you can’t see out of that eye,” Stern says sharply. “Look at it, Proto Man. Look at what you’ve done.”

He will not, his breathing fast and shallow. He doesn’t need a picture to remember what Kalinka’s broken body had looked like. All the blood that soaked his scarf right through, turning it red and dripping as he desperately tried to use it to hold her body together.

“Shattered ribs,” Stern says. “Ruptured intestines. Third degree burns on any skin that remains.”

“Stop,” he whispers. “Please.”

“Do I even have to tell you how much this kind of injury would’ve hurt?” Stern continues. “How agonizing it would be to breathe? You  _ did  _ this, Proto Man.”

“Stop it,” he says, his voice shaking. “I know what I did.”

“And yet,” Krantz says softly. “It was a glancing shot. You either have very poor aim, or weren’t aiming for her at all. You brought her to the hospital, and begged the staff to save her until the security guards shocked you into a shutdown. Those are not the actions of a killer.”

“Did you hate her?” Stern says, giving his partner a sharp look. “Did you shoot her because she made you look bad in front of Wily?”

“No!” he cries. “She was my friend. She was my friend and I—”

He makes the mistake of looking. Of seeing the body, and the blood.

“Why are you doing this?” he chokes, bowing his head. “It’s over. She’s dead. They’re shutting me down. What more do you want?”

Stern sets the picture down. “The truth,” he says.

“It doesn’t matter!” he yells. “No one cares! All they want is to put down a murderous robot!”

“We care,” Krantz says, soft but firm. “The Lights care. Kalinka… would care.”

He sags, but his restraints won’t let him. He’s still trapped here. Wily never came to save him. He never would. He’ll die, and not even his brother will mourn him.

“Please, Proto Man,” Krantz says, her voice thick. “The only thing we want is the truth.”

His head lulls. His whole body aches, trapped in one position for so long his artificial muscles have seized up. He just wants this to end.

The agents wait in silence for him to lift his head again. 

“All she had to do,” he says, his voice breaking. “Was to tell me what she needed GAMMA for.”

“And what was that?” Stern asks.

Proto takes a deep breath.

And tells them the truth. 


	14. Chapter Eleven: Used To The Darkness

The Light’s security system wasn’t supposed to be a joke. To most, it was a near impenetrable system—no weapons, but the shielded walls were designed to slam down the second someone unauthorized tried to access the buildings. The walls were tough enough to give Wily’s toughest bot a run for their money. Dr. Light had learned from his rival’s previous break-ins, and finally made a system that really could keep everyone out.

Everyone, that is, except for Proto Man.

In the few days he was at the Light household, he’d gotten a good look at the security system while he played goody-good to weasel his way close to then gubernatorial candidate Mitchell Deacon (to, as Kalinka said, replace him and his team with robot duplicates. As plans go, it was one of Wily’s more practical ones, but it still had deep flaws.  _ Maybe  _ they might’ve pulled off the election, and  _ maybe  _ they might’ve stopped Mega Man’s meddling had Proto not told him about the incapacitating chip he planted on him earlier. But how long could they pass off robotic drones as human? How long would it take their loved ones to realize they were fake? Wily was great at plots, sure—planning what came after, not so much.)

It hadn’t been  _ easy _ —Mega hadn’t trust him for a second and neither had Roll, though she put up a friendly act to mask her suspicion while never leaving Proto alone for a second. What neither of them had caught onto was the fact that he didn’t physically have to mess with stuff in order to figure it out—his visor did a lot more than just make up for his eye. Roll and the family mutt following him from room to room had only given him more of a chance to scan every inch of the Light home. 

“Huh,” Kali—no, Kalinka, he reminded himself—said, leaning over his shoulder. “I honestly doubted you could do it.”

Proto shut the exterior panel and gave her a raised eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Dr. Light’s reputation is stellar,” she protested, following him to the front door. “Can you blame me?”

“Let me tell you something about so-called ‘genius’ scientists,” he replied, rolling his eyes. For a moment, he thought it wouldn’t work, but the door opened with ease. No alarms went off as they entered. “They’re so caught up with their own brilliance that they always overlook obvious flaws.”

“Uh-huh,” Kalinka said, looking around with curiosity. In order to reach the lab from where they entered, they had to walk through the house side of the small complex, which was… fine. Simple and homely. There was a messy collection of gaming systems in the living room and a simple dining room on the ground floor. One of his brother’s jackets was draped over a chair. A few of Roll’s hair-ties were scattered on a corner table. Upstairs, he knew, was a library. Dr. Light’s office. The bedrooms. One empty, waiting to be filled.

Proto shook his head sharply, forcing an easy smile. “All I had to do was convince the security system that I’m Mega Man.”

It had been that easy. Almost, he thought with a frown, too easy.

“I’ll keep that in mind when I become the next world famous scientist,” Kalinka said dryly.

“Not evil genius? And I had such high hopes for you,” he teased. He was trying not to think about the empty bedroom upstairs. He was trying not to think about how his siblings lived when not fighting for their lives. He was  _ really  _ trying not to think about how she’d kissed him, and the conversation after.

It wasn’t working.

“Haven’t decided yet,” she replied, flashing him a grin, and he had to focus a little harder on not thinking about that kiss or the tangled mess of emotions it was wrapped up in, a mess that kept getting more complicated no matter how much he tried to ignore it. It used to be so much easier to ignore those feelings. When this was all over, everything would go back to normal, and it would be easy again to shove it all down.

Why wasn’t that as comforting as it used to be?

“Are you coming?” Kalinka called.

He had lagged behind, still staring at his brother’s jacket. With a jolt, he moved to catch up to her, already setting up in the lab.

“This gonna take long?” he asked.

Kalinka scowled at the computer screen, glancing only once at her phone. **Russian Scientist’s Daughter Kidnapped** **by** **Dr**. **Wily** , screamed a news article. She swiped it away. “Unfortunately, yes. Dr. Light’s personal security measures are a bit tight, and I still have to work with only three keys. Do a crossword puzzle or something.”

“Ugh,” he muttered, collapsing in a chair next to her. The news on Kalinka’s ‘kidnapping’ had been out for almost an hour. He’d hoped his brother would’ve been more subtle about it, but Dr. Cossack must fear for his daughter’s safety more than he thought. No one had tried to contact him from Skull Fortress. Wily must still be wrapped up with his work, but he couldn’t count on that forever. Wily didn’t take kindly to being blamed for something he didn’t do, and he’d be furious at this development. They were dealing with a ticking clock, between Wily and Mega, and they both knew it.

Still. This was incredibly boring, and the longer the silence, the more his treacherous thoughts got away from him.

“You know, you never told me what you wanted GAMMA for,” he said.

Kalinka’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t look up from her work. “I told you, I think it unfairly targets robots and separates them from society when we should be focused on expanding their rights instead.”

Proto snorted. “Robot rights? You really think humanity’s going to go for that?”

Kalinka frowned at him. “Our ability to make complex, fully autonomous thinking machines will only increase with time. You and your siblings are years ahead of almost anyone else, maybe even decades—but the world will catch up eventually.”

Proto shrugged. “So?”

“So right now, most Robot Masters are industrial bots, limited by design, no matter how intelligent they are,” she said, looking back at her work. “My brother Leonid—Drill Man—won’t ever be able to do anything beyond his designed function, no matter how smart he is. We can upgrade him to be more versatile, but he’ll always fundamentally be a drilling machine. That doesn’t have to be the case in the future. We can —and people will—create robots who want to be something more. You’re already proof of that.”

He scowled at her. “We’ve talked about this, Kali. I’m a combat bot—”

“But that’s not what you were designed to do, is it?” she said calmly. “You’re Mega Man’s prototype. You were originally designed to be a lab assistant.”

“I don’t  _ want  _ to be a lab assistant,” he said sharply. 

“I know,” Kalinka said, rolling her eyes. “And you shouldn’t have to be, if you don’t want to be. You have choices.”

She got quiet, biting her lip. “That’s what I really want to do, in the future. If robots are capable of making their own choices, I want to give them the chance to do so.”

Proto studied her carefully. With a lopsided grin, he ruffled her hair. “You’re a real sweet kid, Kalinka.”

“Stop that!” she snapped, batting his hand away. “ _ You’re _ an asshole.”

“Hey, you can’t give me a speech like that and then deny me my life’s ambition,” he said lazily. “I aspire to be the world’s biggest asshole, and that’s my choice.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she said sarcastically.

“You know what I  _ have  _ noticed? How you completely dodged the question on why you want full access to the GAMMA system.”

Kalinka sighed. “Fine, but I’m telling this to my friend.  _ Not  _ an evil Wilybot.”

“That was the deal,” Proto said, suddenly cautious.

“Remember when I told you GAMMA’s original design was meant to do something else?” she said quietly. “Well, it was created to find robots. Specific robots.”

The completely obvious hit him, and he stared at her slack-jawed. “Stolen Cossack bots,” he said finally.

Kalinka nodded. “And it worked! We recovered every one of my brothers and returned them to their original programming.” Her voice dropped. “Except one.”

“Pharaoh Man,” Proto said, unnecessarily.

“Ptolemy,” she corrected sharply. “Yes.”

For a moment, neither said anything. 

“Kalinka—” Proto tried.

“I  _ know  _ he’s at Skull Fortress. Don’t think I’m an idiot. I know I can’t get him there.”

“Kali—”

“But—but maybe if I know exactly where he is, I can convince Mega Man to save him. Or—or I can wait until he’s brought out on one of your stupid missions, and we can save him there.”

“Kalinka, just  _ listen  _ to me—”

“I couldn’t sit there and do nothing!” she exploded, wiping away sudden tears. “They all gave up—Papa gave up, my brothers gave up. Not me. I won’t give up, understand?”

He waited until she was silent, rubbing her face until there was no sign of tears left. 

“There’s something you need to know about Pharaoh Man,” Proto said quietly. “He isn’t—”

The computer beeped loudly, cutting him off, and the screen lit up bright with rows of scrolling data. 

“Oh,” Kalinka said, sounding shocked. “That’s it. We’re in.”

“You—you got everything?”

Kalinka typed a few commands, her disbelief turning into a grin. “I’ve got  _ everything _ . I told you I could do it with only three keys!”

Proto was about to answer, grinning back, when he heard something gut-wrenchingly familiar. The sound of shadows shifting, too many metal feet stepping through them. Shadows that concealed and silenced until their maker decided to reveal what hid within them. He turned, expression frozen, already knowing what he would see.

“Well,” Wily said, stepping out of the sudden darkness and into the lab. “Isn’t that good news?”

Kalinka bolted upright, but Dr. Wily was flanked by Guts Man, Cut Man, and Top Man. Shadow Man was the last to emerge, dismissing his shadows with a wave of his hand. He refused to look Proto’s way.

Proto straightened carefully. “What are you doing here, doc?” he asked, keeping his voice casual.

“Me?” Wily replied with exaggerated innocence. “Why, I’m merely here to clear my good name! Imagine my surprise upon hearing the news that I had the teenage daughter of the much esteemed Dr. Cossack kidnapped by my right hand bot? And what’s this, the entire GAMMA system unlocked? What luck.”

Kalinka moved to shut the system down, but Proto grabbed her arm, shaking his head fiercely. She yanked back, but he pulled away as Wily moved in to study the computer greedily. The Robot Masters quickly moved to surround them, and Kalinka froze.

“I was going to tell you, Wily, but I wanted to make sure it worked,” Proto said smoothly. Kalinka jerked her arm free from his grip, glaring, but he ignored her. “You beat me to the punch.”

Dr. Wily rubbed his chin. He was still affecting a cheerful expression, which was… not good, but Proto could work with it. 

“C’mon, doc,” he continued. “You were so wrapped up in what you were working on, I didn’t wanna bug you with something that might’ve been a bust. But hey, it worked! Let’s grab the data and go.”

“And leave Miss Cossack behind, I suppose?” Wily mused.

Proto felt panic race through his systems, but he kept his face blank. “It’s not like she’s any use now.”

Wily held up his hand, studying his fingers closely. “Do you know, little girl, that I still have scars from where you bit me?”

_ Ah, hell. _

“Go fuck yourself,” Kalinka said, because why  _ wouldn’t  _ she go ahead and make things worse. Why would anything go Proto’s way, just once?

Wily’s eyes went cold and again, Proto made the wrong decision. He grabbed Kalinka and shoved her behind him as Wily raised an arm to strike her, thinking it would stop him. Proto had always been able to temper Wily’s violent tendencies before, talking him down from plots that would truly hurt people. It should have worked this time.

It didn’t. 

Wily backhanded him across the face, sending his aviator glasses clattering across the floor. It barely stung. He only moved his head with the blow because if it didn’t, Wily could’ve hurt his hand on Proto's metal skull.

All these thoughts were rational. They all made perfect sense. What didn’t was the desperate urge to cup his cheek and stare at Wily with wounded eyes, desperately seeking a sign that it was an accident. That Wily didn't mean to hit him.

But Proto didn’t do that. He didn’t do anything but stare at where his sunglasses landed, breathing in and out carefully, as if he was afraid something inside him might break. 

For a moment, it seemed like Wily might say something. Not  _ sorry _ —the man’s entire life revolved around never saying sorry, Proto knew that—but something. Anything. 

Instead, Wily moved away, jerking his head toward the girl. Cut Man and Top Man grabbed her arms and dragged her away as she kicked and cursed, saving the particularly nasty Russian ones for Proto Man. Shadow Man took one last look before following them, his expression unreadable. None of the Robot Masters will look at him.

Wily copied the data. He had Guts Man smash the computer once he was done, maybe to be practical, maybe to be petty. Proto didn’t move, not even when Wily came to a stop in front of him.

“The problem with building robots who can make choices is that they begin to believe they actually have choices to make,” Dr. Wily said, pausing for a response.

“Yes, Dr. Wily,” Proto said hoarsely.

“I  _ never  _ want to see you without your armor again,” Wily added darkly. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, Dr. Wily.”

“ _ Gut _ . Come along, boy.” Wily left, no doubt to the Skulker waiting outside. Proto thought about retrieving the sunglasses, but Guts Man had accidentally stepped on them on the way out, leaving nothing left but crushed glass and twisted metal.

After taking a moment to summon his armor, Proto followed. 


	15. Chapter Twelve: страдание

Kalinka Cossack had a problem, and this time, there was nothing she could do to get out of it. 

The walls of the holding cell she had been tossed in were solid. The air vents were too thin to fit her fingers through, though she probably wouldn’t be able to pry them free anyway. The door was sealed tight, not even a window to peer through. There was likely a camera watching her in some corner, but it was well hidden. This was a room made to hold Mega Man, not a teenage girl. There was nothing but the hard, cold ground to sit on, but she had some luck—there were a frightening pair of shackles strapped to the wall that her captors could’ve strapped her to, but decided she wasn’t enough of a threat for. 

And they were right. She _was_ helpless in this situation. She'd spent a solid hour kicking and screaming at the door, and the next with her ear pressed to it, trying desperately to hear what was happening outside the prison cell. When both of those had failed, she'd tucked herself into a corner and tried not to cry.

She failed at that, too. 

Kalinka didn’t notice the shadows twisting on the opposite wall until Shadow Man stepped through them, his strange shadows settling into a normal shape behind him. She jerked backwards, banging her head on the wall. Cursing, she clutched her head and glared daggers at the Robot Master. She wasn’t going to let him know she was scared. 

Shadow Man waited patiently until she was done, and tossed a wool blanket at her feet. 

“What’s that for?” Kalinka managed to say, recoiling from it.

Shadow Man tilted his head. His expression was unreadable. His expression was probably _always_ unreadable, and she bet he was pretty smug about it.

“It is cold in this cell,” he said. “It wasn’t built for humans.”

“Nice of you,” Kalinka muttered. She didn’t want to touch the blanket, but she was cold. Reluctantly, she wrapped it around her shoulders, scowling at him. He was, to her irritation, right. It was warm.

“It isn’t a kindness,” he replied. “I’m trying to decide what to do with you.”

Kalinka froze. There was nothing threatening or cruel about Shadow Man’s tone. It wasn't even particularly cold, just detached. The Robot Master watched the series of thoughts cross her face before settling, cross-legged, on the floor.

“I won’t kill you,” he said. “It’s much too late for that.”

“Do you want a thank you?” she snapped.

Shadow Man sighed. “You don’t understand what you’ve done.”

“Enlighten me,” Kalinka snarled.

Shadow Man kept his hands on his knees, but he seemed like he would very much like to pinch the brim of his nose.

“Do you know why you trusted Proto Man?” he asked.

“Are you mocking me?” Kalinka demanded. “Believe me, I’m well aware of how foolish it was to trust the word of a Wilybot.”

“Proto Man isn’t a Wilybot.”

“I may have been foolish,” she said, eyes narrowed. “But I’m not _stupid_. Everyone knows Wily built Proto Man—”

“Yes, he _built_ Proto Man,” Shadow Man said impatiently. “After stealing his plans, parts, and much of his coding from Dr. Light. Proto Man and his brother are so alike because he was always meant to be Mega Man’s prototype.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” she asked. She had known as much. It wasn't common knowledge, but it was in her father's notes, the ones she wasn't supposed to see. But she didn't see what that had to do with what Proto Man was now.

“Do not misunderstand,” Shadow Man replied. “Proto Man’s impatience, his ruthlessness—those are no doubt Wily’s hand, perhaps unintentional errors in how his coding interprets problem solving. His concern for the well-being of others, his loneliness—I believe that is Dr. Light’s signature, an attempt to humanize him. It was a well-intentioned gesture, though deeply flawed.”

Kalinka wrapped the blanket tighter, still wary. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

Shadow Man studied her in silence for a moment. “What would you do if Wily died?” he asked.

Kalinka laughed despite herself. “Celebrate? Like everyone else?”

“What do you think his robots would do?”

She scowled at him. “He stole most of them, so I doubt they’d be choked up over it.”

“You are correct,” Shadow Man said. “Though most Robot Masters have adjusted to their life under Wily, they would not be too sorry when that ends—not even those he built with his own hands. Do you know who genuinely would grieve for Wily?”

Kalinka shrugged half-heartedly, but she was watching Shadow Man with a frown. 

“Proto Man,” he said. “Proto Man takes care of Wily when he is sick. He makes his meals when he forgets to eat. Proto Man talks Wily down from his tantrums and out of his depressions. Proto Man is desperate for Wily’s affection and approval—and has to settle for being an embodiment of his hubris. But that has worked, so far. He has maintained a delicate balance of appeasing a mad man without realizing he was doing it, because he’s never known anything different.”

“But that… changed?” Kalinka asked slowly. She was gradually learning how to read Shadow Man. His face wasn’t stone. He chose, instead, to limit himself to microexpressions, a slight widening of his eyes, a small upturn of the corner of his lips. She could be imagining it, but he seemed pleased she was following along.

“This has to do with Proto Man playing turncoat, doesn’t it?” she continued. “Because of that, Governor Deacon hired my dad to make GAMMA, but I don’t… Why did Proto Man agree to work with me? My father is a genius, but if I found a way to break into the system, Wily would too.”

“Why do you think he did it?” Shadow Man asked.

Kalinka thought about it, pressing her fingers to her lips. “Playing good gave Proto a chance to be on his own,” she said slowly. “He had to make his own choices, even if he was still following Wily’s plan. And if GAMMA worked, it would’ve taken that away. He would be trapped here.”

“And perhaps that would still be fine,” Shadow Man replied. “Perhaps Proto Man would have lived with it. He always had before. It was Wily who panicked.”

“I still don’t understand,” Kalinka said.

“Proto Man deals with his fear like he deals with all of his emotions,” Shadow Man said. “He ignores it. Wily, on the other hand, overreacts. He lashes out, and doubles down when that doesn’t work.”

“I don’t care,” Kalinka said stubbornly, but she gripped the blanket tighter. 

“You do,” Shadow Man said simply. “Because you are his friend, maybe the only one he has. I know you can understand how Wily would view that as a threat. How he would realize your friendship was a chance for the one robot he cannot allow himself to lose to choose a different life.”

Kalinka said nothing. She didn’t want to hear what came next. She didn’t want to feel for Proto Man, not after everything he’d done.

“Wily hit him,” Shadow Man said softly. “Perhaps he didn’t mean to, but he did, and it won him the obedience he wanted. He will do it again, Kalinka. He will make sure it hurts. There is no going back from this.”

Kalinka swallowed hard. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

Shadow Man sighed, standing. “I still do not know. Perhaps this was a waste of my time.”

He turned toward the door, and paused. “Your brothers were very unhappy here. They retained enough to know what they were without. Wily did not care enough to notice. Proto Man did.”

“What—what does that mean?” Kalinka asked. 

Shadow Man glanced over his shoulder. “Wily has lost Robot Masters due to his own carelessness. He has lost them due to his cruelty. But there were some who were lost because they were placed in a convenient position for that to happen. There’s only one besides Wily who could make that happen.”

Turning away, Shadow Man walked through his summoned darkness before Kalinka could say another word. 

#

Proto Man came late. Kalinka had wrapped herself in the blanket the best she could, but sleep never came. When the door opened and Proto Man stepped through, she was already waiting for him, mirroring Shadow Man’s earlier posture.

Proto Man stopped, staring down at her. “Someone gave you a blanket,” he said, sounding relieved.

“I’m not going to forgive you if you’re here to apologize,” Kalinka said. “So don’t bother.”

Proto Man flinched. “There was nothing I could do.”

“Does Wily know you’re here?” she asked.

Proto Man was silent for a moment. “He’s asleep.”

There were several horrible things she could say, all on the tip of her tongue. She wanted so badly to say them, to call him nothing but a dog, a creep and a liar who deserved everything he got. But the more she thought about what Shadow Man said, the more she remembered the look on his face when Wily struck him. The look of someone who’s world had been shattered and didn’t know how to pick up the pieces.

“This is the first time he’s hit you, isn’t it?” she asked.

His whole body recoiled at that, like _she_ had hit him. Once she would have found that very satisfying. Now she just felt sad.

“I’m sorry,” she added quietly. 

Proto Man drew a shaky breath, like breathing hurt. “My brother will come save you,” he said thickly. “That’s what he’s good at.”

“You can’t—you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen,” Kalinka said. “Please, don’t—don’t do this to yourself.”

He turned away from her. “Why do you care?”

She chewed her lip. “You’re my friend.”

“The person you were friends with _doesn’t exist_ ,” he snapped. “He can’t exist. Just—just let it go, Kalinka. Go home to Russia with your family, and don’t come back.”

He moved to leave, but she couldn’t let him. Not like this.

“Did you save my brothers?” she blurted out.

Proto Man frowned at her. “What?”

“Shadow Man said—he said you made it possible for them to be recovered.”

“Shadow Man needs to learn how to keep his big mouth shut,” Proto Man said through teeth, stepping closer to Kalinka. “Don’t you _ever_ repeat that, understand? It doesn’t matter what I did or didn’t do. You got them back, so forget about it.”

She stared hard at him. “Why didn’t you save Ptolemy?”

She didn’t think he was going to answer, his hands flexing and unflexing into fists. But he sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Kali, I tried to tell you earlier. He can’t _be_ saved. Pharaoh Man is—”

“Here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp.


	16. Chapter Thirteen: White Dove

Proto spun, only to catch the blow right to the chin. When Pharaoh Man hit, he hit hard, and Proto could not stop himself from crashing into the wall. He struggled to pull himself up as Pharaoh Man approached, his cape tattered, his armor scratched up and discolored. But it was his eyes, wide and crazed, that alarmed Proto the most.

Pharaoh Man was unstable, and had been since Wily reprogrammed him.

Proto stood and aimed his blaster at the Robot Master, but in such a small space, he risked hurting Kalinka. Instead, he threw a punch at Pharaoh Man—who caught it and  _ squeezed _ . The titanium armor on his hands—like that of his neck—was thinner for maximum mobility. That was not a problem when he was up against anyone else.

The Cossack bots were on another level.

Proto cried out in pain as Pharaoh Man’s grip tore into the metal of his right hand, causing wounds that sparked with severed cables. He collapsed to his knees, but Pharaoh Man would not let go, squeezing harder.

“How is the eye?” Pharaoh Man said, his voice hollow. He grabbed Proto’s helmet with his free hand, pressing his thumb against the visor until it began to crack. “Ready to lose the other one?”

Proto gasped, still trying to wrench free and failing. “How did you—”

“Ptolemy!” Kalinka cried. “Stop!”

The Robot Master barely turned his head. “He hurt you.”

“He didn’t,” she said firmly. She wrapped her arms around Pharaoh Man’s waist and hugged tight. “Let’s go home. Please?”

Pharaoh Man looked back at Proto. “Very well. But he will not follow.”

“Kali,  _ wait _ —” Proto gasped. But Pharaoh Man’s fist was rushing in, and the only thing that followed was blackness.

#

He woke to Shadow Man picking him off the ground. “Pharaoh Man—”

“Gone,” Shadow Man said grimly. “The girl with him.”

Proto’s head ached as much as his hand did, and he had to lean against Shadow Man as a wave of dizziness hit him. “He—he knew about my eye,” he mumbled. “How—”

Shadow Man paused. “I told him.”

“You—What?”

“You are not the only one who gets lonely,” Shadow Man said sharply, though he kept his expression flat. “And he is the one who damaged it. I thought it would mollify him. I was wrong.”

Proto stared at him, pulling away. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about—”

“After the first and only mission he was brought along, he snapped once we returned to Skull Fortress,” Shadow Man said. 

“I  _ remember  _ that,” Proto snapped. “He did a number on Charge Man, and Wily locked him in one of the sub-basements.”

It had been sudden. Pharaoh Man seemed normal enough, silent in his favor. Then he turned to Charge Man—who hadn’t even been facing him—and shot him right in the face. Wily was furious. Charge Man had yet to even see battle before Pharaoh Man reduced him to scrap. 

“Not before he turned on you,” Shadow Man said, staring at him oddly. “He slammed you into a generator, and held you there as it electrocuted you both. You don’t remember?”

“I…” Proto lifted a hand to his eye, stopping himself halfway. “I remember waking up the next day, but my eye didn’t start flickering out until weeks later. I don’t—I don’t remember anything after he tore Charge Man in half.”

“The electric shock must have wiped your short term memory.” Shadow Man swore in rather inventive Japanese. “I assumed you would have remembered why you should not anger Pharaoh Man. I have miscalculated. Badly.”

“Yes, you have,” Proto snapped, straightening. “Is there any  _ other  _ secret of mine you’ve yet to tell the whole damn world?”

Shadow Man ignored the threat, moving to the hall. “Did you tell the girl?”

“I didn’t get the chance,” Proto snarled. “But he wouldn’t—”

Proto stopped. There was only chaos in the hallway, filled with smashed bits of Batontons and other unfortunate drones that managed to get in Pharaoh Man’s way. Shadow Man did not pause, and Proto struggled to follow, stepping over more than one unrecognizable mangled limb of some unfortunately Robot Master.

“Pharaoh Man can’t do this,” Proto said, aghast. “He’s not  _ that  _ powerful.”

Shadow Man did not reply.

“Answer me,” Proto said. “Did you let him out of his prison?”

Shadow Man barely glanced back. “No. I was trying to convince him to return to it without violence, but  _ you  _ had to antagonize him. You had the girl’s phone, and he knew exactly who it belonged to.”

Proto hissed. He forgot about the phone, but it would make sense for the Cossack bot to figure out it was Kalinka’s with a little snooping. “You told him about Dr. Cossack too, I bet.”

“I did  _ not _ ,” Shadow Man said. “You do not understand. Pharaoh Man is very intelligent. He’s been escaping his imprisonment for years, spying on the rest of us. He’s been waiting for this chance all that time.”

“And you, I don’t know, didn’t even consider telling Wily this?” Proto asked, throwing his hands up in the air. They reached one of the hangers, and the wave of destruction stopped where one of the hoverbikes had been stolen. Not a single Robot Master was able to stop Pharaoh Man. “How did he do all this?”

“I don’t know,” Shadow Man said, whirling on Proto. “And no, I did not tell Wily. Pharaoh Man never indicated he was planning anything like this—and you and I both know what would happen to him if I told Wily. Or did you forget Ice Man and Air Man? Did you forget how they screamed?”

Proto studied him, clenching his good fist. “You wanted to save him,” he said. 

“I wanted to  _ spare  _ him,” Shadow Man replied, frowning as deeply as he could. “Is that so difficult for you to understand?”

Proto broke the gaze first, looking back out at the open hanger door. “Do—do we go after them, or…?”

“Don’t bother.”

Wily’s gravely voice matched the wildness of his bed-head as he strode toward them in a ratty pink bathrobe, looking at the destruction with disgust. He had a cup of coffee in one hand, so clearly he hadn’t been in that much of a hurry. “The only way he can accomplish this is by overloading his systems for maximum output. It’ll get him to the city, but only just.”

“What do you mean?” Proto asked.

Wily snorted, sipping the coffee. “I figured he might try to escape, so I reconfigured his core. He was clever enough to take advantage of that, but it will be his undoing.”

“What—what did you do, Wily?” Proto asked, trying and failing to keep the panic out of his voice.

“Hrm? I rigged him to explode,” Wily said, taking another drink. “You’d think that would be enough to stop most Robot Masters, but no matter. Who besides the two of you is intact enough to clean up this mess?”

“He’s got  _ Kalinka _ ,” Proto replied, his voice strangled.

Wily gave him a dark look. “And that will certainly send a message, now, won’t—What are you doing? Get back here!”

But Proto was already running, grabbing one of the hoverbikes and revving it up. He felt the ninja Robot Master leap onto the back, but it did not stop him from taking off at full speed, rushing into the labyrinth of rock and desert that made up the Badlands. 

“If Wily told you to stop me, I won’t let you,” he snapped over his shoulder.

Shadow Man settled into the seat behind Proto. “He did,” he said. “But he didn’t say  _ when  _ I should stop you. We can track them using their heat trail.”

Proto had a lot of questions he wanted answers to immediately, but he bit them back. “He’s not going to listen to us and neither is Kalinka.”

“If you can hit him in the neck, that might be enough to trigger a shutdown before his core explodes,” Shadow Man said. “That was the only thing that got him to release you before.”

“The neck that is reinforced by his weird headgear?” Proto replied incredulously. 

“I don’t have a better answer,” Shadow Man said. 

“I think you have a lot of answers you aren’t willing to give,” Proto snapped. He wanted to know exactly how long Shadow Man had been buddy-buddy with a Robot Master capable of snapping at any moment, but Kalinka was more important. She had no idea her long-lost brother was just as likely to turn on her as he was to have a critical meltdown. Wily’s meddling ensuring no one within radius would survive the following explosion. He had to reach her before either of that happened. 

It took hours to reach New York from where Wily’s base was hidden, even at top speed ( _ Proto _ should have taken one of the planes, but he hadn’t been thinking. Just another long string of regrets—not asking Kalinka what she wanted GAMMA for earlier, not telling Wily about his deal with the girl in the first place, not pinning Shadow Man to a goddamn wall until he got some answers—that he could deal with later), but they had to catch up to them before that, according to Wily. They were gaining steadily, passing over small towns and mid-sized cities, but every passing hour was lost time. Every minute was a minute they were losing to prevent tragedy from happening, and it made Proto want to scream. 

(Was this how Mega Man felt? How could his brother stand it?)

And then they were almost on top of Pharaoh Man’s hoverbike, even though he should have had a steep lead on them. They were over some city Proto didn’t recognize—Cleveland? Boston?—and it almost seemed like their target was slowing down, heading closer to the skyscrapers. 

“We have to take them down,” Shadow Man said, summoning one of his throwing stars with a flick of his hand.

“No,” Proto said sharply, but the hoverbike ahead of them dived for a rooftop, landing with a lurch. Proto glanced over his shoulder to meet Shadow Man’s eyes, but neither of them had to say anything. This had  _ trap  _ written all over it.

“Put that away,” Proto hissed, landing his own bike on the far side of the rooftop. Pharaoh Man stood waiting for them, one arm around a shivering Kalinka.

“I warned you not to follow,” Pharaoh Man said, his voice booming in the chilled air.

Proto slipped off the bike, both hands up. “This isn’t a fight, Cossack. We’re trying to help you.”

“We?” Pharaoh Man said. 

Proto glanced over his shoulder to find Shadow Man gone. When he looked back, a blinding shot was coming right at him. He ducked and rolled as the hoverbike exploded into pieces, taking a large chunk of the roof with it. 

“Knock it off!” he snapped. “Kalinka, tell him to stop! He’s going to overload his power core!”

“Just leave us alone, Proto Man,” Kalinka said, sounding exhausted. “That’s all you have to do.”

“Kalinka—” 

Pharaoh Man pushed the girl behind him and fired off another shot, forcing Proto to dive again for cover. He felt the roof shift at the impact. At this rate, the Robot Master was going to destabilize the whole damn thing, risking collapse. Where the hell was Shadow Man?

“Please, listen to me!” he cried. “Pharaoh Man isn’t stable. Wily messed up his mind and his core! If he doesn’t calm down, he’s going to explode!”

“A trick,” Pharaoh Man snarled. 

Another shot Proto barely managed to dodge. At this rate, there would be no roof left for him to stand on. He had to get closer if he was going to get a decent shot at Pharaoh Man’s neck, and he wasn’t going to be able to fire back at all at this distance without risk of hitting Kalinka. 

“I’m not lying to you!” The roof sank right where Proto stepped next, taking his foot with. Swearing, he stumbled, as Pharaoh Man’s blaster zeroed in on his face.

Kalinka screamed, causing Pharaoh Man to turn toward her. Shadow Man had emerged from his darkness to grab her and pull her to safety. Proto wrenched himself free from the hole in the roof and surged forward, blaster charging and ready. But Shadow Man didn’t know Kalinka, didn’t realize she always had a trick up her sleeve—and when she jammed a weapon into his neck, shocking Shadow Man into collapsing, there was nothing he could do about it.

But Proto didn’t care about that. Pharaoh Man was distracted, and a blast to his abdomen caused the Robot Master to stumble, falling to his knees. Proto had the second shot ready, he had Pharaoh Man’s neck targeted. A short shot, limited power, just enough to trigger a shutdown. He didn’t want to kill Pharaoh Man. The Cossack bot didn’t deserve it.

Several things happened at once.

Kalinka surged forward, yelling at Proto to stop. Pharaoh Man jerked to the side, reacting to them both, throwing off Proto’s aim—

And the roof underneath him crumbled, just as he fired off the shot. Proto hit the ground and scrambled forward, barely escaping falling into the hole forming behind him. Pharaoh Man had recovered quickly too, but Proto’s searching hands found the weapon Kalinka attacked Shadow Man with—a pronged shock rod, similar to what she had hit Proto with in what felt like a lifetime ago. He tackled Pharaoh Man before the Robot Master could stand, and before the taller bot could regain his balance, jammed the rod into his neck, copying Kalinka’s earlier move. 

With a series of seizures, Pharaoh Man went stiff, and for a moment, Proto thought he had doomed them all. Then the light in the Cossack bot’s eyes died, and he fell over, his systems off-line. 

A hysterical laugh escaped Proto’s lips as he stumbled back, careful to avoid the hole in the roof. Shadow Man was still out, but Pharaoh Man was down without destroying him, and Kalinka—

_ Kalinka _ .

Kalinka Cossack was lying in a growing pool of blood, her eyes wide and unseeing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I wrote ahead so I can take time between posting.  
> Also me: Screw it, pain train now.


	17. Crashing

Pain. That’s all Kalinka could comprehend. Just overwhelming, searing pain. Someone was holding her in arms made of metal, someone was crying her name over and over. Someone she knows. She opened her eyes and didn’t recognize the robot holding her. She didn’t understand why the yellow scarf he was wrapping around her was seeped with a dripping red. There were other robots on the ground, but she was being lifted up and away.

_ Ptolemy…? _

But the robot she didn’t know was picking her up and taking her—somewhere. Words were slipping from her grasp. They were leaving Ptolemy. She tried to protest, but all that came out was something hot and choking, spilling from her mouth.

“You’re gonna be okay,” the robot keeps telling her. She did know that voice. It was the boy—her boy. But why was he wearing armor? Why did he sound so scared?

Why was she so cold?

The boy kept talking to her, but she was fading in and out, the pain hazy, then sharp. Over and over.

“Don’t leave me,” he kept saying. “Please don’t leave me.”

_ I’m not _ , she wanted to say.  _ I’m staying right here, I promise _ .

But she wasn’t able to say anything at all.

There was darkness.

And pain. A lot of pain.

A thought, when she woke again— _ He’s Proto Man, that’s right _ —but it was soon gone.

Another thought, much later. 

_ He  _ shot  _ me. _

But that too vanished.

Bright lights and cries of alarm woke her again. The boy, still sounding scared.

“Help her,” he said. “Please help her!”

Many hands grabbed her and —no, they were taking her away. She promised to stay. She promised to  _ stay _ .

The boy’s touch slipped away. The boy let her go.

The voices were fading, and she couldn’t feel anything anymore. She thought she heard something—an electric snapping sound, the boy’s scream, cut off—and then nothing.

Kalinka Cossack was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.
> 
> (Just kidding, I will post the next chapter tomorrow.)
> 
> ((Don't kill me.))


	18. Chapter Fourteen: Breaking Out

Proto Man falls silent, exhausted. The two agents grant him the mercy of that silence, exchanging a long look with each other. 

“So that’s the truth?” Agent Stern says finally. “It was an accident.”

Agent Krantz slams a fist into the table. “I told you!” she says. “I told you it was an accident!”

Stern holds up a hand to silence her, frowning deeply. “Proto Man, are you saying you had no intention of hurting Kalinka Cossack?”

Proto almost laughs. “ _ No _ . Never.”

“And you rushed her to the hospital because you wanted to save her?”

“Yes,” he snaps, jerking his head up. “I—I tried…”

But he failed. He always failed.

“If given another chance,” Stern asks quietly. “What would you do to save her life?”

“Anything,” he says softly. “I’d do anything.”

Stern regards Proto in silence. His partner stares at him, clearly wanting to say something. Slowly and carefully, Stern reaches out and extracts a small USB chip from the recorder. Proto watches, uncomprehending, as Stern sets the chip on the end of the table, and carefully organizes the papers in front of him, pausing at one report.

“Agents Gilbert D. Stern and Roslyn Krantz wrapped up their investigation a week ago,” he said. “They are currently pursuing an unrelated case in the UK, though they have been receiving some confusing emails.”

Proto stares at him.

“I don’t know if this is any comfort, but both of them recommended against your permanent shut down,” he added. “Agent Stern was not as convinced by the legitimacy of your ability to feel emotion, but he was moved, nonetheless, by your remorse.”

Proto tries to speak, but the words stick in his throat. Finally, he croaks out, “If you’re not—Who are you?”

Agent Stern—what he thought was Stern—pauses. He clicks a button on the recorder, and Proto feels the pulse of something surge through the room. The lights flicker. With a click, the restraints on his arms snap free and clatter to the floor. ‘Stern’ stands and he’s—taller. Stretching out and thinning as his features warp and change.

Skull Man stares down at Proto, his eyes aflame with blue. Proto tries to react, to say something, but his limbs are stiff and unresponsive and Agent Krantz is there at his side. She’s speaking gently to him, but she’s not Krantz anymore, she’s shorter and wearing all black and her face and hair are—

Proto slips off the chair and onto his knees, and Kalinka sinks with him, wrapping him up in a tight hug he’s too afraid to return. All he can do is lean against her, his forehead pressed into her shoulder, touching her arms like she’s glass that will shatter if he dares do anything more.

“Kalinka,” he whispers, over and over. “Kalinka.”

Kalinka cups his face and wipes away tears. Proto’s crying again and he doesn’t know why. He hugs her at last, his grip still gentle and shaking, as Kalinka wipes away tears of her own.

“It’s me,” she says. “I’m here. I won’t leave you again, I promise.”

“H-how…?” He lifts a hand to touch her face, and it’s warm and real. She’s  _ real _ .

“I’m so sorry. I wanted to get you out sooner, but—” Kalinka bites her lip. “They lied to you. Mitchell Deacon convinced Papa to lie that I was dead, and then Deacon lied to  _ everyone _ , and it was wrong, and they—they were going to kill you for it. I won’t let that happen. Ever.”

“But—but I shot you,” he says, still lost.

Kalinka chews on her lip. She lifts the corner of the thick clothes she wore, revealing a mass of scars on her abdomen. She yanks it down quickly, her face flushed. “It’s—it’s not as bad as it looks. They had to reconstruct my ribs and some of my organs aren’t—well, organic anymore, but—I’m okay. I’m really okay.”

“A slight exaggeration,” Skull Man says, his scowl clear in his voice. “Kalinka will need years of medical intervention, but she is—for now—okay.”

Proto feels something inside him twist at that. “Is that—is that why you did this?”

“Kalinka wanted to rescue you regardless,” Skull Man says, stepping closer to the two. “I needed… convincing. Your brother will need to know the truth, as will Dr. Light. They will need to clear your name, to prevent this from ever happening again.”

“I’m sorry,” Kalinka says softly. “We had to plan this really carefully, and we couldn’t get you out any earlier. I know it was hard to talk about.”

He leans down, touching Proto’s shoulder. Proto flinches, but all the Robot Master does is offer him an E-Can. His hands are still trembling too much to hold it, and he’s not sure if that’s damage or shock. Kalinka takes the can and helps him drink. 

“I am convinced, Proto Man,” Skull Man says, strangely gentle. “You truly meant my sister no harm. I apologize for not recognizing your grief.”

Proto says nothing, watching the tremble in his arms subside as his self-repair systems kick in. He’s still afraid if he closes his eyes for too long, none of this will be real.

“We don’t have much time,” Skull Man says. “I’ve only temporarily knocked out their systems, and the distraction I’ve set off will quickly be discovered to be harmless—we must go.”

Kalinka nods, pulling out Proto’s scarf from her jacket, clean and yellow again, and wraps it around his neck. “I stole this from evidence,” she says with a certain amount of satisfaction. “What do you think?”

“I think I want to kiss you,” Proto says, running his fingers along the scarf until he’s satisfied it’s really his. 

Kalinka makes a face. “Not in front of my brother.”

He doesn’t laugh—he  _ can’t  _ laugh, not yet—but he smiles, almost surprised he still can. Skull Man helps him up. The energy can helps, but he would need a lot more time to fully recover. If the Cossack bot had thoughts about their exchange, he doesn’t share them, keeping a steadying hand on Proto’s shoulder as Kalinka zips up her jacket and pulls a hood over her head. Some sort of filmy shadow extended over her face as she did, obscuring her features, and her outfit had light-weight armor built over it.

“There are several obstacles between us and freedom,” Skull Man says, leading them to the door. He keeps his hand on Proto’s back, but it’s gentle, guiding at most. It’s not easy to process that this Skull Man was the same one who threatened to kill him, but he was still having a hard time processing all of this. 

Kalinka’s hand is firmly gripping his. That helps. 

The hall is empty, the robot guards fallen and still. One of Kalinka’s tricks—or Skull Man’s, Proto had yet to see what his weapon system could do. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

“You faked your death?” he asks slowly.

Kalinka shakes her head. “That wasn’t what Papa intended. He kept my recovery quiet. He was afraid Dr Wily would seek revenge.”

“Governor Deacon took advantage of his fear,” Skull Man says. “He convinced our father that telling the world Kalinka was dead would throw Wily off for good. We were wrapped up with Kalinka’s recovery, isolated from the world. By the time any of us realized what Deacon really meant to do, he had already declared your deactivation was imminent.”

“But—Dr. Light—”

“Did not know,” Skull Man replies, stopping them at a corner. He summons his weapon—something bright and swirling and—are those  _ skulls _ ? Skull Man tosses the weapon down the hall, resulting in a bright flash and the cries of robotic voices. A cautious look around the corner reveals scorched walls and more downed drones. 

Proto is very,  _ very  _ glad he never had to face Skull Man in battle.

“Papa is a good man, but he has his flaws,” Kalinka says quietly, as they continue forward. “When he is worried about something, he can do nothing else but concentrate on it. He doesn’t speak to his friends. He doesn’t pay attention to the outside world.”

“I don’t consider Deacon a very clever man, “ Skull Man mused. “But a politician knows an opportunity when he sees one. In the future, I recommend being more careful about who you decide to terrorize.”

Proto has nothing to say to that. He’s still exhausted, mentally and physically, and as they continue on, the nondescript walls blur together. He needs to sleep, real sleep, but Kalinka’s hand grips his tight, and it keeps him going. Skull Man’s support is surprisingly strong, holding him up when he stumbles, keeping him steady. 

Hall after hall. Defenses taken down by either Skull Man’s weapons or Kalinka’s clever hacking. Then they were outside, running, the night air filling Proto’s artificial lungs as alarms blare behind them. He’s out. He’s  _ free _ .

And then his brother steps into the light in front of them, blue armor shining bright in the light, forcing the three of them to stop. 

“I can't let you do this,” Mega Man says. His blaster is armed, but at his side. His eyes are on Skull Man’s imposing figure, but they keep drifting to Proto, uncertainty playing across his face. 

“If you stop us, it means Proto Man’s death,” Skull Man responds, igniting his weapon. In the open, Proto can see it clearly—a spinning shield of burning skulls, burning with a ghostly flame. 

Mega Man looks even more uncertain in the reflecting glow, but he lifts his blaster grimly. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Proto says softly. He lets go of Kalinka’s hand, ignoring her hiss, and steps away from Skull Man, outside of the shield. Skull Man grabs for him, but Proto manages to duck away. 

“You want me dead, brother?” He holds his arms out, still weak enough to shake. “Go ahead. End it.”

“I don’t want you dead,” Mega snaps, keeping his weapon aimed at Skull Man. “That’s not what this is about!”

“So you’ll just let someone else kill me for you? Never took you for a coward,” Proto says. He tries to smirk but he’s tired, he’s just so tired. “Just do it, Mega. Get it over with. Please.”

“No,” his brother says, lowering his weapon. “I won’t—”

Something bright and spinning hits Mega Man in the back, knocking him forward, and Skull Man twists his weapon ever so slowly and fires it forward, sending the blue bomber flying. He grabs Proto as he collapses, picking him up like a child as Proto’s vision begins to fade. There’s a van speeding toward them, a figure running next to it.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Ring Man says in Russian, yanking the door open. “Get in, get in!”

Skull Man sets Proto in the back of the van, and Kalinka climbs in with. There’s someone driving—Dust Man?—and Ring Man slides into the passenger seat. Skull Man seems to shrink somehow, changing as his armor vanishes the second the door slams shut, and then the van is moving, tires shrieking as they leave at top speed.

Proto lifts his head once, just high enough to see Mega Man watch them go, his blaster limp at his side. Then he collapses, his head in Kalinka’s lap as he sinks into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to sleep for A MILLION YEARS.


	19. Chapter Fifteen: In Bad Dreams

Mega Man had a plan. As the day of his brother’s impending permanent shutdown approached, it came together in bits and pieces. More panic than thought, there were countless ways it could’ve failed—many more than it had a chance to succeed—but it was something he could cling to, something that gave him hope after every failed attempt to prevent the inevitable.

When Dr. Wily came to rescue Proto Man, he was going to let him. 

Mega had it all worked out. He would put up a good show (he would have to, in order to keep the human authorities present safe) but no matter what, he was going to let Proto go. It was a decision he told no one, not even Roll. He was fully prepared to deal with the consequences if and when he was confronted about it. But no matter what, he was going to do it. He was going to make sure his brother lived. Letting Proto Man return to Wily was the worst option possible—but it was the only option he had left.

So why, when the moment of his brother’s freedom had come, had he tried to stop it?

When he learned his brother had killed Kalinka Cossack, his fury had burned for weeks. He’d never been that angry before. Angry that Proto Man had crossed a line Mega never expected him to cross. Angry that he never thought his brother even capable of that, angry that he hadn’t been there to prevent it. But as weeks passed into months and Proto Man stayed silent, his anger faded into cinders. He was still mad, but he was more confused. If Proto had meant to kill Kalinka, why had he rushed her to the hospital and begged for help? Why had he let the hospital drones capture him? Why didn’t he say anything during his interrogations, not even to defend himself?

The more time ticked down, the more Mega became convinced Proto Man hadn’t meant to kill Kalinka, if only because he wasn’t sure he could face his brother again otherwise. And if that was the case, then his brother deserved to be punished, but he didn’t deserve to die. But then—what? They couldn’t reprogram him. Though Mega Man threatened it a few times, mostly out of anger, he knew it wasn’t that simple. Dr. Light had explained—when it had been one of the ways to save his brother—that attempting to reprogram Proto Man could have devastating effects on his mind. As a prototype, his coding was delicate, and Dr. Light refused to risk destroying it. 

But that left little other option. Permanent imprisonment was not a viable option under the constant threat of Wily attack. Since losing Proto Man, Wily’s attacks had been erratic and desperate in their execution. He was clearly trying to find where Proto was being held, and the government would not tolerate that forever. Dr. Light’s counter of keeping Proto Man under house arrest at the lab had been rejected along the same lines, no matter how strong his argument had been. Governor Deacon wanted Proto Man gone, and Deacon had powerful allies. He also had an election coming up, possibly presidential ambitions. What was a better path to victory than a solid blow against Wily by destroying his Second-in-Command?

Mega turns over in the bed, toward the wall, and tries to let the bitter thought go. To Deacon, Proto wasn’t a person who deserved a chance to defend himself in a trial—he was merely a robot, and a murderous one at that. Most people would think that way, no matter how much work Dr. Light did to counter it. 

He knew all that. That’s why he was going to let Proto Man escape. He was supposed to let him go. So why…?

The robot who implored Mega Man to kill him wasn’t the brother he was expecting. Even in his moments of defeat, Proto Man had held himself strong, stubbornly clinging to his claimed superiority no matter how many times his brother proved him a liar. He wasn’t the weak, defeated figure Mega had confronted, despair in his voice and a tremble in his limbs. What had they done to his brother?

What had he let them do, thinking it was right?

The gentle knock on the door belongs to Dr. Light. Roll’s is always firm, more of a warning that she's about to burst in rather than a request. Rock says nothing, but he’s not surprised when Dr. Light enters anyway. His father silently sits down on the bed and sets a gentle hand on Rock’s shoulder.

“Am I a bad person?” Mega asks.

“Because you let your brother escape?” Dr. Light asks, confused.

“Because I wasn’t going to.”

Dr. Light rubs his back gently. “It’s not wrong to feel conflicted over the actions of someone you love,” he says. “Especially someone like Proto Man.”

Rock is silent for a while, but Dr. Light does not push, his touch still gentle and comforting. 

“How long has he been like that?” Mega Man asks. He never saw Proto Man during his imprisonment. He didn’t want to at first, and by the time he did, Deacon’s cronies were firmly in control, and they wouldn’t allow it. Despite Dr. Light’s argument that Mega Man could get the truth out of his brother, they were spun excuses about how he was needed to watch out for Dr. Wily instead.

They never wanted the truth.

Dr. Light’s hand stills, and he sighs deeply. “I wish I could tell you,” he says, sounding sad. “He barely spoke to me. I have my regrets, and—well. I should have pushed harder to have him treated more humanely. I should have foreseen how strongly Governor Deacon would push for his shutdown. I should have done a lot more.”

Mega sits up. “You did everything you could,” he protests.

“I didn’t, but thank you.” Dr. Light gives him a tired smile. “We all have regrets, Rock. You would not be as human as you are if you didn’t. Wherever your brother is now, I only hope he can—”

Roll bursts through the door and comes to a stop, looking flustered. “I—sorry, it’s just Dr. Cossack is here, and you really, really need to hear what he has to say.”

#

The last time Mega Man had seen Dr. Cossack, he had been frantic with worry, flanked by a young blond man Mega belatedly realized was Ring Man without his armor, and a white-haired mid-thirties man he could not place at all, though he was sure the man was another Robot Master. Dr. Cossack introduced them as Ivan and Alexei. Alexei had a severe face but a kind voice, and both he and Ivan were just as worried as Dr. Cossack about Kalinka. Forced to rely on what little Ivan had known about Kalinka’s whereabouts, they'd searched frantically, but had made little progress before tragedy struck. The shock and horror on all three of their faces still haunts Mega, another complicated factor in his turmoil over Proto Man.

The Dr. Cossack they face now is a man aged. There are white streaks running through his hair from his temples, a look that would make him seem distinguished if not for the dark circles under his eyes. 

“Mikhael!” Dr. Light exclaims, clasping him on the shoulders. He’s gentle about it, Mega Man notices. “Come, sit, please! I thought you were back in Russia…?”

Dr. Cossack allows himself to be guided to a chair in the dining room, sighing as he sits down. They join him around the table. “No,” he says. “I only meant for it to seem that way. I wanted to stay off Wily’s radar.”

Roll squeezes her hands together. “We’re so sorry for your loss, Dr. Cossack.”

Dr Cossack looks conflicted. “That is what I’ve come to talk to you about,” he says. “My daughter isn’t dead.”

“What?” Mega says, standing up straight. 

Dr. Light sighs. He does not look surprised. “I wondered,” he says. “Grief makes strange animals of us all, but your actions seemed purposeful, if nothing else.”

Mega stays rigid. “Kalinka’s been alive this  _ whole  _ time?”

Dr. Light frowns at his tone, but Dr. Cossack lifts a hand. “This is a mess of my own making, Thomas. I’ve earned your son’s anger. Yes, my daughter is alive. I’m sorry for deceiving you. She was gravely injured, and at the time, I only meant to prevent Dr. Wily from finishing his revenge.”

“What about Proto Man?” Mega Man demands, his voice hard. “He could have died because you  _ lied _ .”

“Mega,” Roll hisses, but Dr. Cossack is still shaking his head.

“It’s all right, the criticism is entirely fair,” he says. “Mitchell Deacon talked me into faking her death. I knew he had ulterior motives. I knew he was manipulating me. I did not care. The only thing that mattered to me was Kalinka. I paid attention to nothing else—not the numerous messages Thomas sent me, not what was happening to her attacker. For that, I apologize.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been used, I suspect,” Dr. Light says grimly.

“Where is Kalinka now?” Roll asks. “Is she safe?”

“Those questions are far more complicated than you realize,” Dr. Cossack says with a sigh. He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and sets it on the table. “Let me start with this. I received this recording shortly after Proto Man’s escape. It… may be difficult to listen to.”

He set the phone down and started the audio file. It takes some time to finish. Proto Man’s confession is slow and halting, clearly as painful for him to tell as it is to hear. Mega does not sit down until it’s done, reeling. Roll has her hands pressed over her mouth, eyes wide.

“It was an accident,” Mega Man says, still in shock. “But—why didn’t he say so? They were going to shut him down!”

“It seems he blamed himself enough to think he deserved it,” Dr. Cossack says quietly.

“And it may not have made a difference if he had,” Dr. Light says, grim again. “It’s clear to me that Governor Deacon did not want justice, he wanted revenge.”

“And a boost in the polls,” Dr. Cossack adds darkly. “I will not pretend I’m not still angry at your brother, Mega Man. Had he not made the choices he did, Kalinka would’ve been spared a great deal of pain. But I should have prevented what happened to him. It wasn’t right.”

Roll drops her hands, but she still looks shaken. “Okay, but… it’s okay now, right? Kalinka is alive. Proto Man was rescued by Dr. Wily. What else can we do?”

“That’s the thing,” Dr. Cossack says, looking old and tired again. “Dr. Wily didn’t break Proto Man out of jail.  _ Kalinka  _ did, with the help of her brothers. I will need your help to get her out of the danger they’ve put themselves in.”

#

Mega Man has spent the last few months avoiding people—avoiding the press wanting to know how he felt about his brother’s shocking crime, avoiding people who wanted to congratulate him on the defeat of his enemy, avoiding his family who just wanted to talk. He'd slipped away from Dr. Cossack and Dr. Light’s urgent conversation on where Kalinka and her brothers had been seen last, and where they could be hiding. It wasn’t right, but he couldn’t take it anymore, seeking solace on the roof.

So naturally, Roll finds him there moments later. She hesitates on the edge, but he gestures her closer, sighing. 

“You okay?” she asks, settling next to him and hooking her arms around her knees. 

Mega shrugs. “I really thought he might have done it on purpose. Or—or it was an accident, but he just didn’t care. I didn’t think…”

“He cared,” Roll finishes. “Yeah. Me neither. I mean, he never…”

“Never what?” Mega asks, when she doesn’t finish.

“Never cared about me,” she says, her voice hard. 

Mega leans back, watching her carefully. “I always thought you hated Proto Man.”

“I do. I did,” she says. “I don’t know. I don’t understand how he could put up with Wily. I mean—you saw—”

Mega just nods. In all the terrible aftermath, the grief and anger, both public and private, it had taken them weeks to review the footage from the lab to find the truth—but it only left more questions. There was no sound to the tape. What happened was clear, just not  _ why _ . Kalinka was with his brother, seemingly willingly. And then Dr. Wily had shown up, and the mood changed, and they were talking, and then—

He hit Proto Man.

It had never occurred to Mega Man that Wily would do that. He’d known Wily wouldn’t have treated his brother like Dr. Light treated him and Roll, but that was… too far. Too cruel, he would’ve thought, even for Wily, but that isn’t what haunts him about it. What haunts him is the look on Proto Man’s face, part shock, part despair. 

“I don’t think either of us really know him,” Mega says. “But if I were him, I would be much happier knowing you were as far from Wily as possible.”

“He was fine with trying to convince you to join him,” she says wryly. 

“He called Kalinka his friend,” he says softly. “I think he was just lonely.”

Roll is silent for a while. “He looked that bad, huh?”

“I didn’t recognize him,” Mega says. “He looked broken, Roll. He asked me to kill him, and—and I think he meant it. I’ve never seen him like that before. I didn’t think he could  _ be  _ like that.”

They both fell silent at that. Dr. Cossack’s news only made the problem worse. The authorities assumed Dr. Wily rescued Proto Man, and there was no use trying to recapture him. But  _ Dr. Wily _ knows someone else has taken their brother, and he would tear the city apart to find him. They have to find Kalinka first.

But when they do, what will happen to Proto Man?

“Hear that?” Roll says suddenly, sitting up straight.

“Yeah,” Mega Man says, standing. A vehicle, coming their way. Not Dr. Wily—it's too close to the ground, and too small. Without saying another word, the two jump to the ground, Mega Man summoning his armor just as the motorcycle turns the corner and comes to a stop in front of them.

The rider takes his helmet off, and Ivan—Ring Man—meets their astonished gazes. 

“I know where they are,” he says. “And I can take you to them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My I offer you another chapter for this very trying week.


	20. Chapter Sixteen: I Should Have Been a Con Man

Proto Man’s awareness flickers in and out as his system cycles through repairs. He wakes to cables attached to a panel in his arm, slowly giving his system the energy it needs to keep his repair systems running. Somewhere outside the room comes the sound of angry voices. He tries to place them, but their identities slip through the cracks, and he’s still too tired to reach for them.

“Are you insane, Alexei?” Loud, brash. Someone he’s picked a fight with, or will soon. “We can’t keep him here! How long do you think it’ll take Wily to catch on?”

“I’m well aware this is a temporary solution.” Calm, controlled, but for some reason it sends a prickle of unease through Proto’s circuits.

“If you think I’m going to  _ go along with this _ —”

“You can’t pretend you had nothing to do with it when it was your rings that took out Mega Man,” the calm voice says. “This is a shared responsibility, no matter how much you object now…”

There’s more, but Proto is fading back into soft darkness. When he wakes again, there’s something warm and heavy nestled on his chest. He opens his good eye to see a mass of blonde hair spilling over his body, one of his hands firmly wrapped up in Kalinka’s tight grip. He lifts his free hand to stroke her head, and drifts off again.

Proto wakes again, alone. It’s not dark anymore, light streaming through a plastic covered window. He’s lying on a cot in what seems to be an unfinished apartment, the walls and floor bare wood. He’s wearing new clothes—a t-shirt and sweatpants—and his scarf is folded up neatly by his head, a new pair of aviators next to it. The cables he was plugging into earlier were gone, but his system still feels off, running on half-power. 

He hears voices coming down the hall, and slowly gets up, discovering an energy can waiting for him on the floor. Proto takes the scarf and wraps it securely around his neck, slipping the shades on before picking up the energy can, drifting toward the voices.

“Look, I’m not saying we hand him back over to the authorities.” Ring Man, quieter but no less angry. “But what  _ are  _ we going to do now? Did you even have a plan for what happens after you broke an international terrorist out of prison?”

“Vanya, I know you’re upset, but do have a plan.” Kalinka. Relief rushes through him at the sound of her voice. She’s really alive. This isn’t a dream. 

“Whatever plan it is, it’s not good enough,” Ring Man snaps.

“Papa will—” Kalinka tries.

“Papa won’t,” Ring Man interrupts sharply. “What did you expect, to just sneak out Proto Man of the country with father’s blessing? What next, we just drop him off somewhere in Europe and hope for the best?”

“Ivan.” Skull Man—Alexei?—his voice still calm, but warning. “Do not take this out on your sister. What happens next requires Proto Man’s input.”

“Oh, good, let’s listen to the criminal on what next to do,” Ring Man replies. “You may believe that he didn’t mean to hurt you, Kashenka, but I don’t. I’ve been his subordinate. There’s no good in him, I promise you that.”

Proto lingers in the hall, drinking the energy can slow. He tries to summon his armor, and receives a sharp pain for the effort. Still disabled, then. They either don’t trust him enough to remove it, or they can’t.

“When I was at Skull Fortress…” The new voice is quiet and hesitant, but familiar. It stops, and Proto leans into the shadows at the end of the hall, peering into the room. There was Dust Man, who has no unarmored form, and Kalinka, looking tired. The sight of her cheers him up immediately, even though she’s standing next to the tousle-haired man he shoved into the bus. Ring Man. That meant the white-haired man who looks in desperate need of two weeks of sleep must be Skull Man.

“Go on, Dimitri,” Skull Man says.

“Wily was not—kind,” Dust Man says slowly. “I was not made for combat, no matter how much I tried. I was not considered useful. You were there, Ivan, and Yuri and Stefan, but you were—unreachable. Changed.”

“Dima, I’m sorry,” Ring Man says, pained.

“Not, it’s—I never blamed you,” Dust Man replies, staring down at his hands. “We were all changed. Wily put me on cleaning duty of his personal quarters, and whenever he was particularly angry, he would throw things at me. Sharp things, that would damage my vent if I caught them. But it was my job to catch them, so that’s what I did.”

He paused. “It was not the cruelest thing he has done, I admit. I saw far worse. But there was something… purposeful about it. All I wanted to do was to be useful, so he used that to hurt me.”

He falls silent, but no one fills it.

“When Proto Man caught him doing it, he told me to clean the hangers instead,” Dust Man continues. “He told me to do it when Wily was asleep, and to stay out of sight otherwise. He made it sound like an order, like he was angry at me. I knew it to be a mercy, even then.”

“Okay,” Ring Man says slowly. “I get it, but—”

“Two weeks later, I went on my second mission,” Dust Man says, interrupting him. “I did not understand why. Wily did not want me there. Toward the end of it, Proto Man sent me to an empty warehouse and told me to wait. I did. When Mega Man and Dr. Light recovered me, I did not fight back. I did not have to. All I had to do was… wait, and be saved.”

He looks hard at Ring Man. “Those are not the actions of one without a heart, Vanya,” he says. “And you know it.”

“Okay,” Ring Man says, defeated. “But what do we do?”

Proto slips out of the hall and leans against an unfinished wall, finishing off the can. “You could ask me,” he says. 

Ring Man scowls at him. Before he can say anything, Kalinka marches forward and wraps Proto up in a tight hug. It surprises him, still, and his returning embrace is soft and hesitant. She feels whole, her grip strong, but he knows she isn't. She’s forever damaged, and that will always be his fault. 

Proto’s grip tightens, carefully. Even though he’s the one who did this to her, the cause of all her pain, he doesn’t want to let her go. He’s not sure how to deal with the pang of regret that follows. His hands linger on her shoulders, but her brothers are watching, and he drops them.

He’s never gotten a hug from his siblings, Proto thinks. He never will.

“Your brother’s an asshole,” he says. “But he’s right.”

“Okay, seriously?” Ring Man says. Proto ignores him. 

“I can’t put your dad through any more than I already have,” Proto continues. “And my brother isn’t… he’s not going to help me.”

“What other option do we have?” Kalinka asks, dismayed. 

Proto doesn’t reply, tilting his face away.

“I see,” Skull Man says evenly. “You would like for us to look the other way while you return to Wily.”

“No!” Kalinka cries, echoed by a furious Ring Man.

“Neither of those plans were going to work, and you knew that,” Proto says, glaring at Skull Man. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

“I admit to knowing the uncertainty of being able to help you beyond what we’ve already done,” Skull Man replies. His expression is calm, but disconcerting. He doesn’t blink nearly as much as he should, and it was probably intentional.

“I told you this would happen,” Ring Man said with a scowl. “All we’ve done is give Wily back one of his greatest weapons.”

Months of imprisonment should have taught Proto to keep his mouth shut, but he’s no longer at the mercy of those who want him dead. The response rises up and out before he can think better of it. “If you’re jealous,  _ Ivan _ , I’m sure Wily will welcome you back with open arms. Not that you were any use to begin—”

Ring Man’s on him before he can finish, summoning his armor and slamming Proto to the ground. Sparks of pain shoot through his body and he can only gasp in pain as the Cossack bot holds a burning ring to his throat. Kalinka cries out, and the sound hurts more than any physical pain could.

“Enough,” Skull Man says. He yanks Ring Man off Proto with ease, holding him back as the shorter bot struggled against his grip. Dust Man retreats to the hall, hiding in the safety of its shadows. Kalinka stands still, watching the scene with wide, pain-filled eyes. 

“My best case scenario was releasing you to make your own way, Proto Man,” Skull Man says, letting go of his brother at last. Ring Man jerks away with a huff, but he doesn’t remove his armor, nor does he release his grip on his rings. 

“Perhaps,” Skull Man continues. “It was foolish of me to hope you were capable of that.”

Proto pulls himself into a sitting position with his elbows, but doesn’t get up. “Listen,” he says. “My armor’s disabled, I’m half-blind, and every cop in the country now knows what my face looks like. I don’t have the option to walk away from this. What… what choice do I have?”

Ring Man dismisses his armor, snarling something surprisingly vile in Russian. “I’m done with this nonsense, Alexei,” he snaps. “I’m leaving.”

No one tries to stop him. Proto knows exactly where he’ll go—straight to Mega Man to rat Proto out, no doubt. But he doesn’t stop him either. He was already living on borrowed time. There’s no use clutching to sand as it slips through his fingers.

“If you go back,” Kalinka says, her voice wobbly in the following silence. “He’ll hurt you again.”

Proto stands slowly. He doesn’t look at her. 

“Shadow Man said he would,” she replies, clenching her fists. “Wily will hurt you, because it’ll get him the obedience he wants. And you’ll let him, because you think that’s all you’re allowed to have. Won’t you?”

He breathes in a long, shaky breath, aware of how closely Skull Man is now looking at him, how concerned Dust Man looks, peering out from the hall. 

“What about Pharaoh Man?” he asks quietly.

Kalinka bites her lip. Skull Man moves forward and grasps her shoulder, his eyes burning into Proto.

“What  _ about  _ Ptolemy?” Skull Man asks.

“He wasn’t recovered, was he? My interrogators never mentioned him.” Proto takes another breath, on stronger footing now. “I can get him back. You did this for him, Kalinka. I can get you your brother back.”

“You’re not making a convincing case, Proto Man,” Skull Man says. The quietness in his voice now has the underlying tone of threat. Kalinka stares at him, her eyes shining with tears, but she doesn’t say anything, and that gets to him more than anything her brothers could say.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he says, hating how helpless he sounds. “I just don’t know what else I can—”

The sound cuts through him like a knife. He moves on instinct, surging forward as Skull Man’s eyes go wide. Kalinka is confused, not yet able to hear that familiar engine shriek. Proto shoves both her and Skull Man toward Dust Man, away from the outer wall. 

“Take Kalinka and run,” he says. “You have to run—”

The wall explodes. Skull Man may not be as experienced as Proto is, but he catches on fast, already shielding Kalinka with his body as debris flies inward. A chunk of jagged steel slices through the artificial skin of Proto’s cheek, but he keeps moving, putting himself in front of the Cossacks as the smoke clears.

A familiar figure steps off the Skulker and surveys the room with a cold smugness. 

“I believe,” Dr. Wily says. “You have something of mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opinions expressed by emotionally-damaged robots struggling to accept their own problems do not reflect the author's opinion on disabilities. Proto's got a lot of work to do.


	21. Chapter Seventeen: Tangled Up

Mega Man arrives too late. Wily’s destructive aftermath is evident from a distance—the gaping hole in the building’s wall, the distant scream of the Skulker’s engines, already too far on the horizon to give chase. Mega rushes into the half-constructed apartment, fearing the worst.

Instead, he finds the Cossacks safe. Dust Man is wide-eyed and trembling, but his arms are around Kalinka Cossack’s shoulders. Alexei (Skull Man, Mega remembers, and tries not to shudder) is unarmored. He’s kneeling next to Kalinka, tending to a superficial cut on her hand.

Proto Man is gone. 

Mega exchanges a confused look with Rush. Before he can comment, Roll and Ring Man arrive on a hoverbike, adding to the chaos. Roll is asking questions, Ring Man is demanding answers, and Dr. Cossack and Dr. Light will be on their way. Mega needs answers  _ now _ , before things get any messier.

“What happened,” Mega asks sharply, cutting through the din.

Alexei does not look up from bandaging Kalinka’s hand. “Dr. Wily has the GAMMA system. Father had enough farsight to create counter measures to that possibility, but it seems to have not slowed him down at all.”

The Robot Master looks up, his eyes burning. “The oversight was mine, Mega Man. I underestimated your enemy, and I apologize for that.”

Ivan makes a scoffing noise. “Your mistake was breaking Proto Man out in the first place—”

“Not now,” Mega says, seeing Kalinka flinch. “Did Proto Man leave with Wily willingly?”

Alexei stands. He’s taller than Mega recalls. Again his mind involuntarily flashes back to the frightening figure he made as Skull Man. But Alexei’s expression is gentle, his eyes sad.

“You are both children,” he says softly. “I should have realized that sooner.”

Mega starts, taken aback. “I’m sorry?”

Alexei’s eyes slide above him, to the hole in the wall. “Proto Man agreed to return with Dr. Wily if he promised to leave us in peace. Wily was unhappy with the arrangement, but he left without attacking us. I’ve no doubt such a truce is quite temporary.”

“You say that as if Proto Man wasn’t planning on returning to Dr. Wily all along,” Ivan says harshly. “Just admit it, Sasha. He played all of us, even you.”

Alexei glances at him, but says nothing.

“Great,” Roll mutters. “What a mess. At least you’re okay, Kalinka.”

Kalinka studies the bandage on her hand and doesn’t answer.”

Mega’s suspicions deepen. There is more going on here than what is being said.

“Roll, Ring Man—sorry, Ivan,” Mega says. “Dr. Light and Dr. Cossack will need someone to tell them everyone’s okay. Dust Man, I mean—”

Mega stops. 

“Dimitri,” Dust Man supplies. “I can go with Ivan. Kashenka will be safe with you and Sasha.”

It takes Mega a second to recall how Russian nicknames work, and that he means Kalinka and Alexei. “Thank you,” Mega says. “Roll, take Rush, will you? Dimitri will need room on the hoverbike.”

Roll shoots him a questioning look, but she seems to have also picked up that something isn’t quite right. “Okay,” she says, turning to Ring Man. “You good?”

“Not remotely,” he says, dismissing his armor to become the tousle-haired blond once again. His glare never leaves Alexei until the group of them leave.

Mega blinks, watching them go. “You don’t think those two have a thing going on, do you?”

“I believe Ivan prefers men,” Alexei replies. “The wrong men, typically, which explains some of his attitude problems.”

That explains nothing to Mega, but it also sounds like something he would regret asking more questions about. He turns to respond and finds himself facing a clear-eyed Kalinka, her arms crossed.

“Can I trust you?” she asks sharply.

Mega takes a step back, on uncertain footing again. Kalinka may have been a victim in all of this, the center of a tragedy spun out of control, but she also apparently handled Proto Man just fine until Wily got involved. Mega had assumed Alexei had been the mastermind behind Proto’s rescue.

Staring back at Kalinka, he’s starting to wonder if he had it all wrong. 

“I would like to think so,” Mega says, uncertain.

“You nearly got Proto Man captured,” Kalinka points out. “You could have got him killed.”

An angry response is on the tip of his tongue, but Kalinka’s gaze isn’t judging—it’s mistrustful but searching. She needs something from him.

“I regret that,” he admits quietly. “You took me by surprise, and I—I’m sorry.”

“Were you going to let him die?” she asks, arms crossed tight.

“I—” Mega blinks. “I don’t know. I was banking on Wily rescuing, but I—no. I wouldn’t let him die.”

Kalinka’s frown deepens. “Can I trust you?” she repeats, her eyes sharp again.

Mega returns her gaze. “Yes.”

“Good,” she says promptly, turning away. She nudges the debris on the floor, searching intently for something with her foot. Mega glances at Alexei, but the Cossack bot merely tilts his head, eyebrow raised in equal puzzlement.

“You always struck me as a good person,” Kalinka continues. “Or at least a well-meaning one. Your brother certainly thinks so.”

“Speaking of my brother,” Mega says, but stops. He doesn’t know how to end the question. He doesn’t know what the question is. Kalinka’s relationship with a robot who should have been her enemy was still a giant puzzle he did not know how to begin to solve.

Kalinka digs through a few chunks of wood until she finds one that resembles a baseball bat. She swings it experimentally, and seemingly satisfied with the result, leans it against her shoulder and meets his eyes again.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mega Man,” she says. “You may be considered trustworthy, you may regret your earlier actions, but that does not mean I trust you.”

“I—” Mega blinks at her, bewildered. “I’m sorry, Kalinka, but do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

“Not as much trouble as you might think,” she replies promptly. “One, neither Papa nor Dr. Light will confess the truth to the authorities. Doing so risks imprisonment for both me and Papa, as well as permanent deactivation for Alexei. Dr. Light would not risk that, and you won’t either.”

Mega grimaces. She has him there.

“Two, your brother was deliberately framed by Governor Deacon,” Kalinka continues. “Perhaps for political—what’s the word? Not cloud. Clout? Perhaps for other reasons. Proto Man is no angel, but he does not deserve to die. You know this.”

“That doesn’t mean breaking him out of federal custody won’t have consequences,” Mega says sharply.

“Oh, there will be consequences,” Kalinka says, giving the piece of wood another swing. “My brothers will receive their scoldings, and my father will no doubt use this as an excuse to lock us away from the world again for our protection. He’ll put me back in my ivory tower and take away all my toys until I can act like his good little princess again. A happy ending for all.”

The bitterness in her voice is so sharp, she could stab someone with it. Mega suddenly worries about her plans for that chunk of wood.

“I understand your frustration,” he says slowly. “And as much as I think following the law is important, turning you over to the government won’t help anyone. It’s not just Alexei that’s in danger, Kalinka, it’s all your father’s robots. Exposing that Dr. Cossack not only illegally constructed a combat robot but also smuggled him into the country will get the rest of your brothers seized.”

Kalinka’s face falls at that, but she straightens, taking a deep breath. “I know. We—”

“Discussed it,” Alexei says, eyeing Mega. “As you can see from Ivan’s behavior, not all of us are thrilled with the results, but we were all aware of the risks.”

“That makes you complicit,” Mega points out.

“And ties your hands even more,” he responds with a slight smile. “Kalinka was hesitant in proposing it, but you must admit, it was effective.”

Mega looks back and forth between the two Cossacks. It’s becoming increasingly clear none of his assumptions about Kalinka are correct.

“My brother had no idea what hit him, did he?” he asks, feeling dazed.

Kalinka grins at that, all teeth. “No, not really.”

“And I’m beginning to suspect this isn’t over, is it?” Mega crosses his arms. “You don’t have to trust me, Kalinka, but I’d like you to. Maybe I can help.”

“Very well,” she says, hefting the bat and marching over to a dark hallway. “First thing, do not freak out.”

Before Mega can say anything to that, Kalinka swings the bat as hard as she can into the shadows. A hand reaches out and catches it. Mega yelps with surprise as the figure emerges, pulling the makeshift weapon from Kalinka’s grasp and tossing it to the side.

“Shadow Man!” He forms his buster. Alexei, just as alarmed, summons his armor, but Kalinka stops them both with a single glare.

“Stop that,” she says, as if scolding children. “Shadow Man has been here the entire time. If he was going to attack someone, he would have done so already.”

“Not the entire time,” Shadow Man says, giving the chunk of wood a look of distaste. “Was that necessary?”

“Really, Kalinka,  _ one  _ Wilybot was enough,” Skull Man says, his voice now an eerie echo in his armor. “Must you befriend all of them?”

“Shadow Man would come watch over me while I was recovering,” Kalinka replies. “I got used to spotting how the shadows bent when he hid in them.” She pauses. “He brought me flowers.”

“Injured humans customarily receive flowers,” Shadow Man replies, arms crossed.

“ _ And _ he’s the one who gave me the location and the codes to the facility Proto Man was being held in,” Kalinka adds. “Without him, our task would have been much more difficult.”

“Back up, I’m confused,” Mega says. “Why didn’t  _ you  _ break Proto out of prison?”

Shadow Man’s eyes slid over to meet his. “My shadows do not accommodate those other than myself well. He would have been gravely damaged if I attempted it.”

“Why did you not tell Wily?” Skull Man questions. “You knew where he was, yet Wily clearly did not for the majority of Proto Man’s imprisonment.”

Shadow Man pauses, considering them both for a silent moment. “That action would’ve had far too many consequences,” he says at last. “The facility was heavily defended, expecting an all-out assault. Wily would’ve undoubtedly lived up to such expectations. There would have been many casualties, on all sides. Kalinka’s plan was the most viable one.”

“You didn’t tell Wily,” Mega repeats, still confused.

“I do not tell Dr. Wily a  _ lot  _ of things,” Shadow Man replies. “I may be compelled to follow his orders, but only if he is aware enough to give them. Wily ordered me to find Proto Man. He neglected to tell me to inform him of when I did so. That gave me leeway to tell Kalinka first.”

He pauses, the trace of a smile crossing his lips. “I do much of my work in such leeways.”

“You were not built by Dr. Wily,” Skull Man notes, dismissing his armor and becoming Alexei again. Mega does the same with his buster, though more reluctantly. He's only encountered Shadow Man in combat a handful of times, and the Robot Master had not displayed any particular skill in it. Still, he has to keep himself from yanking Kalinka away from the strange ninja bot, for that would only make  _ her  _ mad.

“No,” Shadow Man replies, and says nothing more.

“We are all caught up, wonderful,” Kalinka says with a roll of her eyes. “Why didn’t you do anything to stop Proto Man from leaving with Wily?”

“What would you have me do?” Shadow Man asks.

“Something! Anything! This was not the plan,” Kalinka retorts, clenching her first. “The plan was to keep Proto away from Dr. Wily until we could work out a deal!”

“Had I revealed myself, Dr. Wily would have ordered me to renege on the deal Proto Man made for your safety the moment he was no longer involved,” Shadow Man responds. “I can only bend his commands so far. I cannot break them, like Proto Man.”

Kalinka bites her lip.

“I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand,” Mega says slowly. “Ivan said Proto  _ wanted  _ to go back to Wily.”

“Proto Man is not known for making good decisions,” Shadow Man says. “To all our misfortunes.”

“But—”

“Your brother has been deeply traumatized, Mega Man,” Alexei says. “It was the wrong decision, true, but I cannot blame him for wanting to go back to the only home he knows.”

“Do you still think Wily’s going to hurt him?” Kalinka asks quietly. 

The air in the room suddenly feels still and heavy. Mega cannot hide the horror in his expression. “He wouldn’t actually… Proto Man is his—”

“I cannot predict the future,” Shadow Man says. “But Dr. Wily’s confidence in Proto Man is shaken, and I do not think it can be repaired. That means nothing good for your brother.”

“What can we do?” Kalinka demands.

“Your best option is to return to Russia immediately,” Shadow Man says bluntly. “Had Proto Man fully rejected his affection for you, I would not be worried. But he did not. He offered himself in trade for your safety, and that will be a thorn in Dr. Wily’s mind. He knows his right hand’s loyalty will be forever split—and  _ that _ , Wily will not abide. Distance will offer you some protection, at least.”

“But it won’t protect Proto Man,” Mega says, his earlier horror solidifying into a heavy ball in his chest.

“Not Proto Man,” Shadow Man agrees.

“Fine. What else can we do?” Kalinka snaps. “I’m not letting Proto just sit there and takes whatever Wily does to him, not after—” She chokes, swallowing hard. “I’m not abandoning him. I promised.”

“What else can we do?” Mega asks. He’s still missing several pieces of the puzzle, but several things are snapping into place. The tremble in Kalinka’s voice when she talks about his brother. The instinctive way Proto put himself in front of her, right before Wily struck him. 

Proto’s look of blank despair in all the images from his imprisonment, when he thought Kalinka was dead.

“What are you  _ willing  _ to do, Mega Man?” Shadow Man asks sharply. “So far, your hands remain relatively clean, but your brother is a criminal, and the Cossacks have made themselves criminals to save him. What will you do?”

The eyes in the room turn to him—Kalinka’s bright with tears she thinks she’s hiding, Alexei’s wary, Shadow Man’s distrustful.

Mega takes a deep, steadying breath.

“The right thing,” he says. “I’m going to do the right thing.”


	22. Chapter Eighteen: The Villain I Appear To Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for non-graphic torture, implied eye trauma, abuse.

**Earlier**

“I believe,” Dr. Wily says. “You have something of mine.”

Proto places himself in front of the Cossacks, his arms held stiffly at his sides. Wily enters the apartment, flanked by Guts Man and Cut Man.

“Dr. Wily,” he says quietly.

It’s clear Wily expects something more, blinking owlishly at his Second-in-Command, but he recovers quickly, throwing his arms wide with a gleeful smile.

“Proto, my boy what a surprise! I had grand plans for your rescue, but it seems you freed yourself.” Wily puts his hands on Proto’s shoulders, and Proto tilts his head to study the old man’s expression. Triumphant. Arrogant, even. Like Proto’s freedom had anything to do with him.

Months, he was strapped to a chair, left to linger in a half-state in a steel cage. Where was Wily _then_? How dare he show up now and expect gratitude for it?

He’s not... angry, like he expects to be. Instead he can’t really identify the emotion he’s having, and he doesn’t want to. Giving it a name gives it power, and he can’t let it overwhelm him, not in front of Wily. Better to keep it a lump in his throat, no matter how much it hurt.

Wily’s frowning at him. He’s supposed to respond, but he has nothing to say.

“What interesting company you’ve been keeping,” Dr. Wily continues smoothly. “Miss Cossack, your father had the world convinced you were dead. What a… pleasure, to find you alive.”

The Cossack bots immediately move to protect her, Alexei summoning his Skull Man armor and throwing up a shield. 

“You will not do her any more harm,” he warns. “Leave.”

Wily’s eyes light up with greed in the shield’s unearthly glow. 

“Dust Man has already proved his uselessness, but you will make an excellent new recruit,” Wily says. “Guts Man, Cut Man, please escort our dear Skull Man—”

“No,” Proto says. It’s not loud, but it’s firm.

Dr. Wily stares at him. “No?” he repeats, bemused.

“Leave Kalinka and her brothers alone,” Proto continues. “They broke me out, doc. I owe them.”

Dr. Wily’s eyes narrow, his grip on Proto’s shoulders tightening. “I would’ve expected your imprisonment to teach you a lesson about your defiance, Proto Man. Have you forgotten the Cossack girl is the reason for your capture in the first place?”

There’s a game to play here, one he knows well. He placates Wily by flattering him, by dismissing the Cossacks as worthless, by thoroughly crushing Kalinka’s heart with a smirk. But he can’t play it, not now. He doesn’t have the energy to fake it.

He can feel Kalinka’s eyes on him, even though he doesn’t look back at her.

“She broke me out,” Proto repeats. “I _owe_ her, Wily. Her and the Cossack bots. Leave them alone.”

Wily releases him, taking a step back. He doesn’t look angry. Proto expects him to be angry, and he’s not. That’s more chilling somehow.

“Why should I?” he says, sounding pensive. “What do I get out of all this, hrm? Six months, my entire operation has been in shambles in order to find you, boy, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Your entitlement is clear,” Skull Man says, his hollow voice echoing. “As is your overconfidence in your ability to subdue me. Listen to Proto Man. You cannot win this.”

Wily waves a dismissive hand. “As impressive as you sound, you share the same weakness of all of Cossack’s creations. You care too much for the safety of the girl to dare put up much of a fight.”

His eyes return to Proto and narrow. “A weakness that seems to have infected my own robot.”

“Skull Man’s right, doc,” Proto says, ignoring the comment. “You haven’t seen him in action, I have. It’s not worth the fight. Let’s just go, before my brother shows up.”

Wily sneers. “And if I don’t?”

This is a test. It’s a test he knows how to pass. It’s a test he’s passed a thousand times before. He just has to pretend he doesn’t care, like all the times he pretended he didn’t care if his brother died.

Proto takes a step back and fails it. “Then I won’t go with you.”

Cut Man gasps. He and Guts Man had watched the ongoing events with obviously growing discomfort, exchanging multiple looks. 

“But Proto Man,” Guts Man rumbles, confused. “Where will you go?”

Proto doesn’t answer. Wily’s expression is cycling through several levels of rage, and he raises a hand as if to strike Proto instead. He flinches, but instead, Wily takes the sunglasses away from his face, almost gently, and slips them into his labcoat pocket. 

“Is that the stance you wish to take, boy?” Wily asks, his voice low and dangerous. “I would think carefully before answering.”

Proto sucks in a sharp breath. Without his sunglasses, he’s exposed. Vulnerable, and Wily knows it. He’s unable to hide his thoughts. He’s unable to hide that his left eye is broken.

“I owe Kalinka,” he says, but his voice is starting to break, his weakness slipping through. “Wily, don’t do this. I promise I’ll obey you, I—I just want to go home. Please.”

Wily catches his chin and stares hard, fingers digging in every time Proto tries to look away.

“Very well,” he says finally, letting Proto go. “Guts Man, Cut Man, get back to the Skulker. We’re apparently leaving the Cossacks in peace.”

“But Wily, you said—” Cut Man tries.

“I said get in the Skulker!” Wily roars. The two Robot Masters scramble to obey with a fear that makes Proto wince. He can easily picture what Wily’s been like with no one to calm him down.

“Proto Man, you don’t have to do this,” Kalinka says, her voice pleading.

“She’s right, Proto,” Wily says mockingly. “You can always _choose_ to stay behind and throw yourself at the mercy of Mega Man. I’m sure that will work out so well.”

Proto keeps his expression neutral, keeping his eyes on the ground in case they betray him. “Why would I do that?” he asks casually. “This is what I want.”

It’s the tone he always speaks with. It’s the tone he always lies with. It’s a tone Kalinka should see right through, though he hopes she doesn’t. He follows Wily into the Skulker, and takes his usual seat in the cockpit. If Mega Man is on his way, he’s far too late.

Proto is going home.

#

Wily doesn’t speak to him until they arrive at Skull Fortress. It’s a long trip, and Proto closes his eyes halfway through, bracing himself for the inevitable, but it doesn’t come. Wily can be unfailingly patient when he wants to be.

“Where’s your armor?” he growls when they land.

“Disabled,” Proto replies.

Wily makes a grumbling noise and dismisses Cut Man and Guts Man. He storms his way through the halls, and Proto follows, as expected. He figured there’d be gawkers, but there’s no one in sight.

This is going to be bad.

Wily stops in one of the labs and roughly gestures toward a work table as he shifts through a pile of tools next to it. “Sit down. The sooner I get you fully operational, the better.”

Hesitantly, Proto obeys. Wily finds the tool he’s looking for and grabs Proto by the chin again. Proto flinches—he can’t stop himself—but all Wily does is tilt his head to the side and shine something bright into his face.

Flashlight. It’s just a flashlight.

“And how long has your eye been like this?” Wily demands.

Proto blinks. “I—I was going to tell you…”

Wily makes a noise of deep disgust. “If you’re going to lie to me, at least do it convincingly.”

“I—” Proto tries to pull his head away, but Wily’s grip is too firm. He can’t get free without being deliberately defiant, and the last thing he wants to do is to test the mad scientist even more. “I didn’t want you to think I was weak. I thought I could handle it.”

“Like you ‘handled’ the Cossack girl?” Wily asks, but his tone isn’t as sharp as it could be.

 _This is a trap_. The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like Shadow Man, but Proto’s tired. He’s already in too deep to avoid it.

“I messed up,” Proto says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Wily stares at him with narrow-eyed suspicion. “Well, that’s the first time you’ve ever apologized for anything.”

Proto doesn’t answer.

“I thought I built a war machine, not a lovesick teenager,” Wily says.

“It wasn’t like that—”

“Did you really learn nothing, boy? Are you still clinging to the hopes that she’ll continue to care for you as she grows older?” Wily continues. “Please, you were just a way to get back at her father. I could tell you a thing or two about the loyalty of women—”

“It isn’t like that,” Proto says desperately, twisting away. “I wasn’t—”

Wily’s grip digs in harder, wrenching Proto’s head forward with a strength he could resist, but doesn’t. “You will let me finish or I will yank that worthless eye out without shutting off your pain receptors,” he says coldly.

Proto falls silent.

“You know, here I thought it would be your brother that got to you,” Wily says, after a beat. “You were always begging him to join you, it was pathetic. Yet he didn’t stop your execution, did he?”

Wily pauses, expecting an answer.

“No,” Proto says, his voice thick. “He didn’t.”

“Pathetic,” Wily repeats, shaking his head. “Lie down, I’ll need to shut you off to remove the armor blocker.”

The jaws of the trap snap shut, but what else can he do? He knew this was coming. He probably deserves it. Proto obeys, like he promised, and watches his vision fade as Wily shuts him down. 

#

Proto wakes up. He half-expected not to, so that in itself is a relief. His left eye is still blind. His armor’s back, his helmet resting on the table next to him. There’s something heavy in his chest, a pressure that wasn’t there before, but when he tries to sit up and investigate, he can’t. He’s strapped down, unable to move.

Fear trickles down his spine. He twists his head, finding Wily watching him coldly. 

“Doc?” Proto’s voice has a high, uncertain tone to it that he hates, but can’t take back.

“I have tolerated your disobedience for a long time,” Wily answers, stepping back into his field of vision. He’s still holding the flashlight. “Because for all your faults, they’ve gotten results. You have always disappointed me, Proto Man. This time, you have failed me.”

“I—” Proto pulls on the restraints, but they won’t budge. “You don’t have to do this, Wily, I promise I’ll—”

“Enough!” Wily snaps. His sneer is downright hateful, the one he usually reserves for the Lights. “Do you think your promises mean anything to me? After everything you’ve done, you should be grateful I’m still tolerating you at all. If I discover you’ve betrayed me—”

“Never,” Proto says. “I’m not a traitor, I swear.”

“No?” Wily muses. “Didn’t slip any details of our operations to your jailers?”

“Of course not!”

“Gave out any precious secrets to the little Cossack girl?”

“I keep telling you, that wasn’t—” Proto lets his head fall back on the table. “I get it, Wily. I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Wily repeats. “I’ve wasted more than half my resources and funds trying to track you down. You can forget getting rid of that useless eye of yours anytime soon. I barely have enough money for fuel!”

This he could handle. This is an argument they’ve had before, one he can talk his way through. But he’s still strapped to the table. Something is still wrong. 

“I understand,” Proto says slowly. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. Will you let me up already?”

The look Wily gives him is icy. “Do you truly believe you can get away without punishment?”

Proto tests the restraints harder, but they won’t budge. “What are you going to do, Wily?”

“Oh, I’ve already done it,” Wily says. “The problem with rigging Pharaoh Man’s core to explode is that it made his demise unpredictable. And Thomas says I never learn from my mistakes.”

“What did you do?” Proto asks, his voice strangled.

“I put an electro-bomb in your chest, Proto Man,” Wily replies flatly. “One I control with the press of a button. Disobey me again, and I’ll fry every last circuit in your body.”

Horror chokes him, and it takes him a moment before he can speak. “Tell me you didn’t,” he says. “Doc, please—”

“I gave you chances, Proto, and you threw them in my face,” Wily snaps. “When I order you to kill Mega Man, you will do it—no more missed shots, no more second chances.”

Proto swallows hard. He thought he hid that well. Not well enough, it seems. “You don’t have to do this, Wily, I can—”

“I’m done with your begging!” Wily yells. He brings the flashlight down hard on the work table, breaking it. Proto winces as chunks of metal bounce off his face, expecting Wily to hit him next.

But he doesn’t. Wily calms, staring down at Proto as he holds his breath, fearing the worst.

“I’ve always hated your face,” Wily says conversationally. “It was Thomas’ idea to make you so _appealing_. He thought it would make humanity more accepting to robots, the fool. Then again, that’s what hooked the Cossack girl, isn’t it? Your good looks and charm?”

Proto says nothing, his throat aching. He doesn’t know how to play this game anymore. He doesn’t know what to say to make Wily happy.

“I will make a deal with you, Proto Man,” Wily says. He picks through various tools on the table next to Proto’s head, studying each one with a frown. “I will unstrap you from this table, I will remove the bomb from your chest. I will even tolerate your open disrespect once again. You just have to do one single thing for me.”

He pauses, holding a pair of pliers. 

“What?” Proto asks hoarsely. 

“Kill Kalinka Cossack,” Wily replies. “Kill the girl, and you’ll get your life back.”

His insides twist, but he already knows the answer. Wily does too, but he wants to draw this out. He wants to hear it. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. Not yet.” Wily smiles humorlessly, studying the pliers. “I’ve changed my mind. You don’t need that useless eye after all.”

Proto tries not to scream. 

It’s a very long time before he stops.


	23. Something In The Way

“Alright, we’re here,” Mega Man frowned at him. He was closed off, suspicious. “What do you want?”

He had every right to be suspicious, but his brother grinned at him reassuringly. Proto Man had been on his best behavior since his heel-turn, but Mega hadn’t given an inch. It had been difficult to convince him to even come to the park at all, but he needed to get them away from all the lab’s security systems. 

“I just wanted some time with my brother.” Proto wrapped a good-natured arm around Mega’s shoulder in a joking way, jostling him so he didn't notice the chip being planted on his helmet. It had been so easy, despite all of Mega’s hostility. Too easy. “You little dope.”

“You big goof,” Mega retorted, shoving him back. He laughed first, seeming to surprise himself. Proto joined in. He even meant it, but Mega stopped abruptly, his face twisting, and jerked to his feet.

“For a minute, I forgot myself,” he said. “You’re more twisted than a car wreck!”

Proto got to his feet as well. The hostility doesn’t surprise him, but there’s real venom in that statement, more than he thought Mega was capable of. It was sharper than any time his brother ever called him evil. 

It was also, particularly in that moment, true.

“Hey, I’m doing my best to go straight and you still mistrust me?” It didn’t take that much effort to act hurt, raising a fist as he spoke. “You think you’re too good for your brother!”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Mega said with a sigh. He pushed Proto’s fist down to defuse him. “I’ve always wanted a real brother relationship with you.”

“Y—y—you do?” Proto didn’t have to fake the confusion in his voice. Mega lingered, giving him a chance, but Proto didn’t take it, too taken aback. The conversation fizzled out and ended. The rest of Wily’s plan played out, right down to the bitter end.

Proto never got another chance.


	24. Chapter Nineteen: Ain’t No Devil

“What are we gonna do?”

Guts Man. His heavy footsteps echo in the hallway outside. He’s been pacing for quite awhile.

“Shadow Man said to wait for him,” Cut Man answers. He sounds anxious.

“Shadow Man didn’t say anything like _this_ would happen,” replies a third voice. Elec Man? “We have to do something!”

“Yeah, but… the door’s locked.” Another voice. Tentative. Bomb Man? “And Wily wouldn’t have done anything that bad. Right?”

Proto drifts off. He’s not really conscious to begin with. His system is desperate to start up his sleep cycle and kick in his self repair, but he won’t let it. There’s nothing left to repair. The pain will still be there when he wakes.

“I can break the door down,” Guts Man suggests.

“You’ll only make Wily angrier,” Cut Man replies. 

The voices get quiet again. Something leaks from the wreckage of Proto’s eye. He tries not to think about anything. He thinks about Mega Man.

The day in the park had been beautiful. What a cliche that was, really. It was a beautiful day to stab his brother in the back. Mega had even been expecting it, but he still didn’t see it coming, didn’t expect Proto to be that devious.

 _More twisted than a car wreck_ , Mega had called him. And Proto had lived up to that without a second’s hesitation. Even after his brother had admitted to wanting a real relationship. Proto had had time to take it back, to remove the scrambler chip he planted on Mega Man. He'd had time to make things, if not right, then at least better. 

But he hadn't. He hadn't even had second thoughts until it was far too late to take back. He'd proved to his brother and the rest of the Lights he was beyond help. Despite doing everything he was told, he'd also proved to Dr. Wily he was untrustworthy.

Ring Man was right. He wasn’t worth saving.

Hands clamp down on his shoulders, and Proto jerks back with a cry.

“It’s only me,” Shadow Man says. His voice is soft, his hands gentle as he tries to tilt Proto’s head out of his hands. “Let me see.”

Wily had left after Proto had stopped screaming. He'd looked down at his right-hand with an odd look in his eyes for the longest time, as Proto had tried not to whimper at the pain radiating from his empty eye socket. But Wily didn’t say anything. He'd released Proto from the straps and just… left, locking the door behind him. Proto had rolled off the table and half-stumbled, half-crawled to an empty corner of the room and curled up in a ball.

Shadow Man tilts Proto’s head up, just enough to get a good look at his face. The Robot Master’s hands snap back when he does, his eyes wide. Proto buries his face in his arms again. 

“Proto Man,” Shadow Man says. There’s no hiding the shock in his voice. Proto wonders if it’s reflected in Shadow Man’s expression for once, but he doesn’t have the energy to check. “What has Wily done to you?”

“Put an electro-bomb in my chest,” Proto responds. His voice is strained and raspy. He broke something screaming. “Says he has the kill switch to it.”

Shadow Man is silent. His hand touches Proto’s head, still gentle. 

“Wily won’t forgive me for this,” Proto says, sounding frantic. 

“You didn’t _do_ this,” Shadow Man says sharply. “You didn’t make him hurt you.”

Proto tries to laugh. It sounds more like a sob.

Shadow Man slides his hand to the back of Proto’s neck, fingers probing. Too late, Proto realizes he’s looking for a weak point, and jerks his head up to protest. But Shadow Man has already found the energy cable he was looking for, and presses down hard.

Darkness follows.

Proto opens his eyes and he’s back in his cell, back to being strapped to a chair. His eye is still gone, the fluid leaking from the socket like blood. Mega Man stands in front of him, his arms crossed.

“I’m sorry,” Proto says desperately. “I’m _sorry_. I shouldn’t have tricked you. I just wanted you to be on my side for once.”

Mega’s expression tightens. “You’re never sorry for hurting me, Proto Man. Why should I believe you?”

“It was wrong,” Proto says, struggling against the restraints. They hold firm, as they always have. “Mega, please, I—I don’t want to die.”

He blinks, and Mega is gone. Dr. Light stands in his place, staring at a pile of reports in his hands.

“There’s no trace of my original prototype in you,” Dr. Light says sadly. “Dr. Wily made you too much like himself.”

“I can change,” Proto says. “I swear I can change, doc.”

“I’m sorry, Proto Man,” Dr. Light says, shaking his head. “All you’ve done is proven you can’t.”

“ _Please_ —”

Dr. Light vanishes. Replacing him are Shadow Man and Skull Man, standing on either side of Proto. 

“I warned you,” Shadow Man says, pointing to his eye. The blood spilling from Proto’s is pooling around his feet on the floor, deep red and thick.

“You hurt Kalinka,” Skull Man says hollowly. “And you turned your back on the hand we offered. Why would anyone give you another chance?”

“Like father, like son,” Shadow Man replies. “Give him a chance, he’ll stab you in the back. Just ask Mega Man.”

“Better to be rid of the threat,” Skull Man agrees. He reaches out, bony fingers prying at Proto’s good eye. “You won’t need this anymore.”

Proto screams as Skull Man’s fingers dig in—

And wakes with a gasp. There _are_ fingers in his empty eye socket, but hands are holding him down, keeping him from jerking away. The pain is unbearable, and he can’t stop himself from shrieking.

And then the pain stops. Elec Man pulls back, setting aside the tool he’d been using. “I’m sorry that hurt,” he says. “That’s the best I can do to stop the pain. Better?”

Proto doesn’t answer. The pain isn’t gone entirely—there’s a dull ache now he suspects will never go away. The hands holding him down slowly let go—Cut Man and Bomb Man at his feet, Guts Man on his arms. They brought him to a lab he doesn’t recognize, and they’re not alone. Peering into the room is Top Man, chewing his lip. Magnet Man and Metal Man are exchanging looks. Fire Man is signing something at Cut Man. Wily had never been able to repair him completely, and that included his vocal cords. 

Shadow Man stands by his head, looking down with concern.

“What is this?” Proto asks, his voice still hoarse. 

Elec Man frowns at him. “We’ll need to cover that somehow, or contaminants will make it ever harder to repair. What even caused that kind of damage?”

He reaches for Proto, but Proto jerks back, scrambling to sit up. Shadow Man catches him by the shoulders and steadies him. 

“It’s all right,” Shadow Man says. “They were worried about you. Elec Man is just trying to help.” He glances up. “Give him space, he’s still in shock.”

Elec Man promptly steps back, the other Robot Masters following suit. Proto closes his good eye and swallows hard, trying to get his breathing under control. His systems aren’t overheating. Robots don’t have panic attacks. He can see the doubt in Elec Man’s face, the confusion. _Robots don’t have panic attacks_ —

Shadow Man’s hands squeeze his shoulders, but it’s not a warning. Proto touches his own face gingerly, probing the hole. _It’s gone. It’s gone, it’s GONE_ —

“Don’t let him do that,” Elec Man says, alarmed. Shadow Man grabs Proto’s wrists and firmly pulls his hands down.

“Clear the room,” Shadow Man says. His voice is calm, but commanding. “Let me talk to Proto Man alone.”

“He’s gonna be okay though, right?” Guts Man says, sounding confused. “We can fix him, can’t we?”

“Let me talk to him,” Shadow Man says, quieter now. “Close the door behind you.”

“C’mon, big guy,” Cut Man says, catching his partner’s arm. “Let’s give them space.”

Shadow Man holds Proto’s wrists until the room is empty and the door is shut. He releases Proto slowly, but all Proto does is let his hands fall into his lap.

“I just wanted to go home,” he says hopelessly.

“I know,” Shadow Man replies. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t fix this,” Proto whispers. He can feel it in his throat and he hates himself for it, he hates Dr. Light for making him capable of it and Wily for not removing it, but he can’t stop. Shadow Man says nothing as the tears roll down from the one eye Proto has left, his breathing hitching as he tries not to sob. He stays still until Proto finally quiets.

“Let me bandage your eye,” Shadow Man says finally. He retrieves a rolled bandage stolen from one of the medkits meant for Wily, holding it out for Proto to inspect. “Elec Man said you’ll need to keep it covered.”

“Elec Man,” Proto repeats, but he doesn’t try to stop Shadow Man from pressing a square of gauze carefully over his eye socket, flinching only slightly. “He’ll have to take turns—Bomb Man or Magnet Man, maybe, someone competent. None of the hotheads, they’ll just make Wily worse.”

“Proto Man,” Shadow Man says softly, but he doesn’t stop wrapping the bandage around Proto’s head. 

“Cut Man and Guts Man can take Wily’s anger for a while, but they’ll need breaks. Not Top Man or Star Man, they’re sensitive. _Never_ Fire Man. You have to tell him that. Okay?”

“ _Proto Man_ ,” Shadow Man repeats, more firm. “You are not dead yet. Why are you so eager to replace yourself?”

Proto swallows hard. “I can’t come back from this. You know I can’t.”

Shadow Man doesn’t reply, brushing Proto’s hair back as he secured the bandage. It’s an oddly comforting gesture, but it only makes Proto feel like crying again. 

“Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that room,” Proto continues, his voice shaking. “Every battle, that’s what I’ll be thinking about. He’ll—he’ll know. He probably knows already. I’m no good to you now.”

Shadow Man sighs. “Wily’s ambition was always going to trump his affection for you,” he says. “I didn’t want it to go this far before you could see that.”

“You warned me,” Proto says thickly. “I didn’t listen. I had it coming.”

“You did _not_ —” Shadow Man grabs Proto’s shoulders, squeezing hard. “You do not deserve this, Proto Man. You _never_ deserved this. Understand?”

“How would you know?” Proto asks quietly. 

“Because I have watched you,” Shadow Man says sharply. “You let the Cossacks bots go. When Stone Man was buried in ice and Wily would not retrieve him, you anonymously sent his coordinates to the Lights. Your first thought on contemplating your demise was not saving yourself, but sparing those left behind. You were willing to die because you thought you killed Kalinka Cossack. Wily has done enough. Don’t do his work for him.”

“Wily didn’t make you,” Proto says slowly, staring at Shadow Man’s eyes. There's something different about them. More human than the average Robot Master, but also somehow… less. “Did he?”

“He found me,” Shadow Man replies. “He possessed enough skill to bend me to his command, but not enough to know what I’m truly capable of.”

He smiles, slight and sharp. It isn’t a nice smile, but it’s… interesting.

“Why are you helping me?” Proto asks quietly. 

Shadow Man leans back, regarding Proto. “I don’t know. Perhaps it’s merely self-preservation.”

“I don’t believe you,” Proto says, narrowing his eye.

“Ah, you _can_ learn,” Shadow Man replies, arching an eyebrow.

Proto doesn’t quite know what to say to that. He slides off the table, wobbly on his feet. One of the Robot Masters had thought to bring his helmet, and he puts it on. He could pretend he is whole, even if it's obvious he would never be again. 

“Pharaoh Man,” he says, drawing a steadying breath. “You brought him back here, didn’t you?”

“I take it back,” Shadow Man snaps, folding his arms. “Wily will _kill_ you. You understand that? He is no idiot. He already knows the loss of his robots are not entirely by chance.”

Proto smiles crookedly. “Prototypes don’t last long.”

“Don’t be a fool!”

“I’m not useful anymore. Not to you, not to anyone,” Proto replies, and it only hurts a little bit to say, because it’s been true for a long time. “No one will miss me.”

“What about Kalinka?” Shadow Man asks, eyes narrow.

“She’ll outgrow me anyway,” Proto says, but his voice catches. He’s just parroting Wily, and he knows it.

“She never gave up on her brother,” Shadow Man replies. “She risked her life for you. Do you _truly_ think she would abandon you? Do you think your brother wants you gone, no matter how many mistakes you’ve made?”

Proto gives him a strange look. “You _do_ care.”

“Unfortunately,” Shadow Man snaps, seeming irritated that Proto managed to get that much out of him. He moves to the door, and Proto follows. Outside, the gathered Robot Masters crowded the hall. 

“He wants to see Pharaoh Man,” Shadow Man announces.

Elec Man nods and shoos the gathered crowd aside. The trip down the hall is short, just long enough for Proto to realize where they are.

“We’re in the basement,” he says.

“Wily doesn’t come here,” Elec Man answers.

Fire Man catches Proto’s eye, deliberately waving for his attention on his good side. “It’s safer for some of us,” he signs. 

Guilt stabs him—he should have paid more attention to Fire Man after all—but before he can dwell on it, they enter another room. Pharaoh Man lies on another work table, cables connected to his chest, energy flowing in and out from a nearby machine. Several panels are open, with obvious signs of repair.

“You’re trying to fix him,” Proto says. 

“We’re trying to stabilize him,” Elec Man responds. “Only Dr. Cossack has a chance at fixing his mind.”

Shadow Man leans against the wall. “Not all Robot Masters want to leave, despite some of the challenges Wily presents us. There is no room in the world for us.”

“But Pharaoh Man _does_ want to leave,” Elec Man says. “And we don’t want him to be trapped here if he’s miserable.”

Something lurches in Proto’s chest. “All of you?”

“All of us,” Shadow Man says quietly. “There are many ways to live, Proto Man. No one wants to see you suffer when you have other options.”

“I don’t know what those are,” Proto says sharply. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do. I don’t have a plan.”

“Neither do I,” Shadow Man admits. “But I know someone who is pretty good at plans.” He pauses. “If you let her help you.”

Proto takes a breath, looking around the room. From the doorway, Guts Man and Cut Man peer at him worriedly. Elec Man watches him with a calculating, but not unkind look. Shadow Man’s expression is closed as ever, but he's starting to see beyond that. Pharaoh Man, the brother Kalinka was so desperate to get back, who didn’t deserve to be twisted up and broken.

“If you can’t believe in yourself,” Shadow Man says quietly. “Believe in Kalinka Cossack. She believes in you.”

Proto closes his eye, and feels that dull ache in his missing one. 

“Okay,” he says, opening it. “Just tell me what to do.”


	25. Chapter Twenty: Dark Matter

**Several Months Earlier**

“No armor in the house,” Roll said, her arms crossed. “It’s one of the rules.”

It wasn’t—Mega sometimes wore his armor for days at a time when in the middle of yet another Wily mess—and he could tell Proto Man knew it, his head tilted, half-smiling at Roll. Mega expected him to refuse. It was clear that’s what Roll was geared up for, itching for a fight that would reveal their brother’s true motivation for turning traitor to Wily.

Instead, Proto dismissed his armor with a shrug.

He didn’t look like what Mega expected. Mega wasn’t sure  _ what  _ he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Though his hair was more red than brown, combed forward instead of back, he otherwise could have been Mega’s mirror image. Wearing a cheap pair of sunglasses, his clothes worn but clean, Proto Man looked… normal. Like someone you would pass on the street. Like he wasn’t the right-hand of an evil man hellbent on taking over the world.

Roll glanced back at Mega, but all he could do was shrug. Proto had called her bluff, and it wasn’t worth starting a fight over. Not until he could figure out what his brother was up to. Proto had put up a pretty good show, defending Mitchell Deacon from Wily’s goons at the parade, but Mega wasn’t fooled one bit by that or his little speech about missing his little brother.

But Mr. Deacon had been impressed, and Dr. Light had been… not convinced, Mega thought. Hopeful. Like maybe if there was good in Proto Man, it would justify all those years of believing there was good in Wily.

Maybe. They never talked about it. Proto Man certainly wasn’t going to tell.

Roll didn’t move, so Proto stepped around her, smiling sideways at Mega. “You don’t treat all your houseguests like this, do you?”

“Most of our houseguests haven’t repeatedly tried to kill me,” Mega said.

Proto raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t seem too bothered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dr. Light entered the room, saving them from the rest of that conversation, and Proto did something strange. He stiffened and shifted away from Dr. Light, ever so slightly, so that he could see where the scientist was at all times. It wasn’t enough to make Mega dwell on it, but a long time later, when he lies awake at night, he’ll finally realize what it was.

Fear. 

But it didn’t occur to Mega then. It didn’t occur to him that his brother could ever be afraid of anything, and he forgot about it almost immediately.

“Why don’t you give Proto Man a tour of the house?” Dr. Light suggested. 

Roll gave him a doubtful look. All Mega did was fold his arms tight. With a sigh, Roll plastered a pleasant look on her face and led Proto away. His brother glanced back at him once, but Mega had no interest in playing this game.

“Do you  _ really  _ think that ethics program just happened to kick in at such a convenient time?” Mega asked, once the two were out of the room.

Dr. Light sighed. “I understand how you feel, Mega. I do. But I believe in second chances.”

“You gave Dr. Wily plenty of second chances,” Mega pointed out. “And he only used it to stab you in the back.”

Dr. Light winced, and Mega realized he went too far. But his father waved off his apology before he could give it, smiling sadly. “If I let Wily destroy my ability to believe in the good of others, I would lose a part of myself that I would never get back.”

Mega frowned. “I understand, but he’s  _ Proto Man _ .”

“I’m not asking you to ignore your instincts,” Dr. Light replied, clasping Mega’s shoulder. “You have every reason to distrust your brother. You should do what  _ you  _ think is right. All I suggest is consider that there could be good in your brother too.”

Mega left the conversation dissatisfied, and found his siblings in the library. Roll was holding a book like she was about to bash Proto over the head with it. Proto was grinning. This was his natural environment, about to start a fight or in the middle of one.

“No fighting in the house is also one of the rules,” Mega said dryly, crossing his arms.

Roll put the book down, looking guilty. “He started it,” she muttered.

“Your house rules are boring,” Proto replied. “You can’t tell me all you do is sit around and not blow things up. Video games don’t count.”

Roll hissed. “I’ll blow you up, you—” 

“Sis, why don’t you go help Dr. Light make dinner?” Mega said, cutting her off. This wasn’t a fight that could go on for hours, and he was already tired. “I’ll keep an eye on our guest.”

“Gladly,” Roll muttered, storming out of the room. Mega would have vastly preferred to go with her. Instead he remained, crossing his arms tighter as he watched Proto Man.

Proto kept up his cool act, plucking a book from the shelf and examining it with disinterest. “I’m still just a guest, huh?”

“Not to get all preachy, Proto Man, but a single good deed doesn’t make up for a lifetime of bad,” Mega replied. “And I prefer the company of family I can trust.”

Something crossed his brother’s face at that—he wasn’t quite as able to hide his expression without the helmet as he could with it, Mega noted with interest—but he quickly smoothed it away before Mega could read it.

“Can’t start making up for it if you don’t give me a chance first,” he pointed out, returning the book back to its place on the shelf.

“What do you think this is?”

“Forced comradery on the guise making sure I don’t get any of my evil Wily germs on your stuff?” Proto said, rolling his eyes. Mega could tell he did because of the way his eyebrows arched, something also usually masked by his helmet.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you of all the things you’ve done the last few times you’ve been in our home,  _ brother _ ,” Mega snapped. He was irritated now, stuck in the exact situation he had been trying to avoid. He couldn’t blame Roll for losing her temper so quickly. 

“So you don’t want me in your house, fine,” Proto replied, a little tension slipping into his tone. “Let’s go for a walk or something. Spend some time together. We finally have the chance to do that, you know?”

Mega could think of a thousand ways that could go poorly, half of them involving ambushes, and only tightened his arms.

“All right, fine, you’re not in the mood now,” Proto said easily. “Come to the park with me tomorrow, and we’ll talk then.”

“Why would I do that?” Mega said sharply. 

“Look, I’m trying my best here,” Proto said, as irritated as Mega was now. “Just give me a chance, all right? I just want to talk.”

“Fine,” Mega said, turning to leave. “I’ll meet you in the park, but you’d better be on your best behavior until then. Got it?”

“C’mon, Mega,” Proto said, sounding frustrated. “Would it kill you to believe in me, just once?”

Mega paused, turning back to glance at Proto Man. “Honestly? It just might.”

Proto said nothing to that, his expression falling, but Mega didn’t pay any attention to it. He didn’t dwell on it when Proto Man proved to be the liar he always was. He didn’t even once consider that maybe his brother could have been reaching out after all.

Not then.

**Now**

It’s well into the night, and again, Mega can’t sleep. 

It’s been a week since Kalinka and her father were reunited, and Kalinka’s declaration that she would not return to Russia without saving Proto Man had not gone well. Kalinka was a whirlwind of pure will, but her father was more than a match for her. It was instantly obvious where she got it from. 

Mega managed to defuse it (once he got over his shock much shouting their argument entailed) by backing Kalinka up, but that had only confused the matter, stunning everyone into silence.

“Why?” Dr. Cossack had asked. He didn’t have to say anything more.

It was an understandable question. Mega had made his position on his brother clear, over and over. He did not save Proto Man from his certain death when he could have. He should have. He didn’t. The weight of everything he’s done—and didn’t do—hung heavy in the question.

“I don’t know if I believe my brother can change,” Mega admitted slowly. “There’s a lot I haven’t forgiven him for. I’m not sure… if I can. Not yet.”

He paused, glancing over at his family. Roll looked torn, her arms folded tight as she chewed her lip. Dr. Light, as always, looked nothing but sympathetic. 

“But I do believe in Kalinka,” Mega continued. “And if she sees good in my brother, I’m willing to give him a chance.”

It wasn’t that easy. It was never going to be. The argument spiralled over the days the Cossacks stayed with them (there wasn’t much room for guests, but they made do). Mega had no plan to offer, no solutions. Just Kalinka’s fervent insistence that something was wrong, and the sinking feeling he had deep in his circuits that she was right. 

He still can’t sleep.

With a sigh, Mega rolls off the couch. He’d given up his room to Ivan and Alexei, though they insisted they didn’t need it. Dr. Cossack and Dimitri took the spare. Kalinka is supposed to be rooming with Roll, but as Mega wanders the house, he hears his sister’s voice coming from the kitchen and drifts closer to it.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Roll says. “But Proto Man has always been manipulative. I know you mean it when you say he’s your friend, but… how do you know?”

Mega lingers outside the kitchen, not sure he’s meant to overhear this conversation, not able to step away.

“Oh, he tried,” Kalinka replies. “But it wasn’t hard to figure out what he was trying to hide with it.”

“I have a hard time believing he’s hiding anything,” Roll says, scoffing, but there’s a hitch in her voice as she does, echoed by a twitch in Mega’s chest. They both remember the security video. They both remember Proto Man’s face when Wily hit him. 

“My father likes to bury himself in his work,” Kalinka replies. “But I know what it really is. It’s grief, I think, and fear. Ivan’s anger is just his way of trying to hide that he feels like he let us all down when Wily took him. Alexei is very good at pretending he has nothing to hide, but everyone does. Your brother… isn’t a good person. I know this. I don’t think I’m a good person either.”

“Kalinka,” Roll interjects, but she doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“But,” Kalinka continues. “I think I can become a better person, if I try. I have people who believe in me, and I don’t want to let them down.”

“What if he doesn’t want to try?” Roll asks quietly.

Kalinka doesn’t answer at first, the silence stretching. Mega leans against the wall, the question echoing in his head.

“I know how you feel,” Kalinka says finally. “You and your brother have offered him your hand multiple times, and he’s rejected you. He’s been mocking. He’s been cruel. But he doesn’t have to be that person. He just… doesn’t know how to stop, I think.”

Roll sighs. “What if he doesn’t want to stop, Kalinka? What if he never changes?”

“Have you ever been to Siberia?” Kalinka asks, sounding like she was weighing her words carefully. “It’s cold, for one, and isolated. There are villages, true, and cities if you travel far enough, but it’s a lonely place. My father moved us there to be safe, but sometimes—sometimes I think he was running away. The world can’t hurt you if you keep it away, but the loneliness that comes from it… I think that hurts more.”

She pauses, but Roll says nothing.

“You and Mega Man have always had each other, and Dr. Light is a very good man. Proto Man never had any of that,” Kalinka says. 

“And he’s never wanted it,” Roll says sharply.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Kalinka replies. “But it hurts to want something you think you can’t have. It’s easier to pretend you never wanted it to begin with.”

“You say that, but Proto Man’s never wanted me,” Roll says. She sounds bitter, but she’s trying to hold it back. Mega winces.

“And that hurts your feelings,” Kalinka replies softly. 

Roll sighs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Have you ever told him that?” Kalinka asks.

“ _ No _ ,” Roll says hotly. “Why would I? He’d only use it against me.”

“He might,” Kalinka says. “But you already built that wall. It’s hard to tear it down, on both sides.”

“You’re a smart kid, Kali,” Roll says wryly, after a pause.

“I spent a lot of time listening to Alexei growing up,” Kalinka replies. “But much to his dismay, I’m much better at telling his advice to other people than using it myself.”

Silence follows, and Mega moves into the kitchen at last. “Shouldn’t you two be sleeping?”

Roll jumps, looking guilty, but Kalinka does not seem surprised at his entrance. 

“It’s my fault,” she says. “I can’t sleep.”

Mega smiles. “Neither can I. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop—”

“But you did,” Roll says, rolling her eyes.

“But I did,” Mega admits. “And I know you’ve been asked this a million times, Kalinka, but… do you really think he can do it? Do you think Proto Man can change?”

“I think,” Kalinka says thoughtfully. “It’s very difficult to step through a door when you’ve been told your whole life there’s nothing but walls. But if we can get him to recognize there is a door, and if he has the right motivation… he just has to realize he can.”

“Harder than it sounds,” Roll mutters.

“Yeah,” Mega says, sighing. “You two should really sleep, okay? We’ll find a way to figure it out.”

Kalinka frowns deeply, but she sighs. “Okay. I am wasting my time, staring at shadows. Maybe it will work better for you.”

Roll shoots Mega a puzzled look at that, but he only shrugs. The two of them leave, and Mega waits for the sound of Roll’s door before examining the kitchen more closely. Nothing looks out of place. A little dark, but it was night, and all the shadows seem to be in the right places.

“You didn’t want to talk in front of Kalinka,” he says, testing.

Shadow Man slips free from the least suspicious-looking corner, and it takes everything Mega has not to jump. He’s carrying a plain-looking messenger bag, and the sight of it makes Mega’s circuits twist for reasons he can’t explain.

“She has been through much,” he answers, meeting Mega’s eyes. “I have no desire to add to her worry.”

Mega freezes. “It’s bad,” he says quietly. “Isn’t it?”

Instead of answering, Shadow Man leans against the table, folding his arms, his eyes slipping away to stare at nothing. 

“You must get him out,” he says, his expression tight. “I cannot advise you on what happens after you do. I should not know how you plan to do it, just to be safe. But you  _ have  _ to get him away from Wily. It might already be too late.”

The sinking feeling Mega has been feeling all week turns solid, weighing him down. “What has Wily done?” he asks, his voice a near whisper. “Is Proto—”

“He’s alive,” Shadow Man says. “He’s hurt. I can’t—I cannot help him, Mega Man. He can’t be repaired physically. The girl can help him, maybe. You. Your sister. I’ve done all I can.”

Shadow Man digs into the bag and holds out a folder of papers. “Dr. Wily has tied Proto Man’s hands. He can no longer leave on his own.”

Mega flips through the pages, more and more frantic by the second. The electro-bomb in itself wasn’t as dangerous as it sounds; easy to disrupt, if someone was careful. But with someone to control it with a trigger, something to turn it on to full power...

“This—this could  _ kill  _ Proto Man,” he says. “Wily wouldn’t, he needs my brother. He—”

“Wily tells himself that,” Shadow Man says quietly. “He believes it, I’m sure.”

“Do you?” Mega asks, afraid of the answer.

Shadow Man holds out his hand. It takes Mega a moment to realize he wants Mega to return the gesture, and he cautiously does, laying his hand over Shadow Man’s palm. Shadow Man takes something from the bag, seeming to hesitate before he places it in Mega’s hand.

It’s the broken wreckage of a robotic eye. Mega stares at it, frozen, unable to accept at first what he’s seeing. Most of it had been crudely damaged, but the iris is still mostly intact.

It’s his brother’s exact shade of brown. 

Mega looks up at Shadow Man in wordless horror, but the Robot Master is already slipping back into his shadows, pausing to turn his head.

“Help Proto Man,” Shadow Man says. “Please. You’re the only one who can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this earlier, but it's not... very... Christmas-y.


	26. Chapter Twenty-One: Head Full of Shadows

**Several Months Earlier**

“He’s getting away!” Proto protested, as Wily pulled him back from making one final shot. It was too late. Mega was already gone through the window, his shots doing nothing but crumbling the wall around it. Stupid flight suit. Just  _ once  _ would his brother accept that he was beat?

“Forget Mega Man,” Wily said. As if it’s that  _ easy _ . As if his brother didn’t constantly show up at the worst possible times to ruin  _ everything _ . 

Proto pushed his irritation down. If he let this get to him, he’d become just as bad as Wily. Wasn’t like his brother wouldn’t be back, anyway.

Besides, he had one other sibling to deal with.

Dr. Light and Deacon were already tied and gagged when he approached, Deacon’s eyes widening as he took a step back. Proto barely noticed. Deacon was always a pawn in this game, a means to an end. Not worth his attention, not when Roll was struggling against Guts Man and Cut Man as they bound her hands, spitting at him like a snake.

“I always knew you were a rat,” she hisses. “We gave you a chance, Proto Man!”

“No you didn’t,” Proto said cheerfully, taking the gag from Cut Man. “You knew this was coming, sis.”

“I’m  _ not  _ your—” Proto ties the gag around her mouth before she can finish, and the look of rage on her face is almost enough to make up for the fact that Mega Man got away.

Almost.

#

It wasn’t like he cared, by the way. That Mega got away, that Mega threw the whole ‘real brother relationship’ in his face and yet never considered that maybe if he really wanted that, Mega had to actually try too.

Proto didn’t care at all.

#

“Wily had me plant a chip on you,” Proto explained, kneeling as his brother clutched his head. “But I can remove it… if you join forces with  _ me _ .”

“Never,” Mega replied, and it was as sharp as any knife, bitter and angry.

“Whatever you say, bro,” Proto said casually. Then he formed his blaster, and shot Mega at close range, sending him tumbling into the wall. He meant it as a dismissal, a last word, but Wily caught the way his face twisted, and ruined it.

“Aw, you hurt Proto Man’s feelings,” he said mockingly. “But not half as much as my bots are going to hurt you.”

Proto kept walking. He didn’t care. He didn’t  _ care _ .

#

Dinner was a weird affair at the Light household, one Proto couldn’t quite believe was real. Dr. Light was the only one eating, of course—no need for fancy, trumped-up robo-food at home, just E-Cans for the rest of them—and Mega and Roll just sat at the table and talked about their day.

Did he take a wrong turn somewhere, and end up in a sitcom?

The conversation, he had to guess, was stilted today, no one used to the big topic of the day actually sitting at the table with them, drinking his energy can slow so that he had an excuse not to engage. Dr. Light tried, once or twice, but he gave one word answers, his discomfort clear.

Dr. Light was eating a salad. For  _ dinner _ . If he made anything without meat for Wily, the old man would scramble his circuits.

“So there’s this band I want to see,” Roll said, purposely ignoring him. “They’re in town in a few months, and I thought—”

“I’m not going with you if it’s a metal band,” Mega replied, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not  _ just  _ a metal band,” Roll said hotly.

Proto smiled behind his can, but Roll caught him out of the corner of his eye, and scowled at him.

“What are  _ you  _ grinning at?”

Ah, an opening. Finally.

“Are you even allowed to listen to bands that use swear words?” he asked, the picture of innocence. 

“I would prefer my children listen to music without anything negative in them,” Dr. Light said with a slight frown. He was trying to head off a fight, but he was used to defusing things between Roll and Mega. 

“So what does that leave you?” Proto asked. “Kidz Bop covers?”

“For your information,” Roll snaps. “I listen to  _ real  _ bands, not that kiddy stuff.”

“Oh, yeah? Name one.”

Roll scowled at him. “What do you know about—”

“He’s only trying to rile you up, Roll,” Mega said. He sounded tired, and it was enough to make Roll sit back in her seat, eyeing Proto with renewed suspicion. 

Game ruined. Proto took another drink from his energy can, trying to hide his annoyance. Would it hurt Mega to let him have his fun, just once?

“So you don’t like metal,” Proto said, testing. “What do you like?”

Mega actually considered the question, too long. “Jazz,” he said evenly.

Proto snorted. “Jazz? That’s for  _ geezers _ .”

It was the wrong tactic, trying the same trick again, and Mega’s expression closed immediately. 

“I’m not doing this. Not with you.” Mega drained his can and set it on the table. “I’m going to bed.”

“Mega...” Dr. Light tried, but his brother was already halfway up the stairs. “I’m sorry, he’s just a little tired.”

“Aren’t we all?” Roll muttered.

Proto drained his e-can slowly, taking time to fix a pleasant smile on his face. No need to let on that Mega’s rejection hurt. No need for Roll to know her little jabs cut just under his skin, festering like splinters. This was  _ his  _ game. Not theirs. 

“Bedtime it is,” he said lightly. 

Neither Roll nor Dr. Light tried to stop him from leaving, though he could tell from the look on Roll’s face that she was in for a kinder, gentler version of Wily’s lectures. Only this one would be about ‘getting along’ and ‘being nice’ and all that crap, even though it was clear this wasn’t ever going to work. Not with either of his siblings, and not with Dr. Light either, he knew, no matter how kind the scientist tried to appear. 

He wasn’t one of them. They would never let him be. They all knew he was a knife, just waiting to be stabbed in their backs.

So why not give it to them?

**Now**

Proto Man takes a deep, shaky breath before entering the lab, scuffing his boot to let Wily know he’s arrived. The doctor turns immediately, irritation on his face. That’s normal. What isn’t is Shadow Man standing in the corner, arms crossed as he watches the two.

“Where have you been?” Wily demands.

There’s a flippant reply to that, one he can almost reach. But he can’t grasp it, unable to overcome the twisting, sick feeling that’s plagued him ever since he lost his eye. Wily recovered quickly. By the next day, he acted like nothing ever happened, like Proto hadn’t been gone for months, like Kalinka Cossack never existed.

Like there’s no bomb in Proto’s chest. No hastily covered hole in his face.

Proto hadn’t been able to do the same. He tried to pretend nothing happened. He tried to ignore that dull throb in his eye socket that came and went. He kept to himself, shaking off any concerned comments from the Robot Masters. It’s for their own good. Better to keep them at arms length than to bring them down with him. Some understand. Elec Man only tracks him down to give him updates on Pharaoh Man’s condition. Others don’t. Guts Man seems mainly confused by it, often needing Cut Man to intervene.

There were some perks. Those in the middle seem much less enthused at his eventual demise. Crystal Man quickly left the room where he entered, the only thing that cheers Proto up, if only a little.

Shadow Man has stayed scarce, back to his usual habits. Proto hasn’t seen him again until now. Once, after half-waking from a nightmare, he thinks he felt a hand stroking his hair until he fell asleep again. But the only proof he has that it happened at all when he woke is that someone covered him with a blanket when he was sleeping, another folded and tucked under his head to relieve pressure on his eye socket. It couldn’t have been anyone else.

He doesn’t know what to think about that. He tries not to.

“Well?” Dr. Wily snaps.

Proto still hasn’t come up with a decent reply. “Here?”

It’s weak and uncertain, and Wily doesn’t like it, his eyes narrowing. Proto holds himself rigid until Wily turns away with a grumble. “Whatever. Come look at what Shadow Man has brought us.”

Hiding his reluctance, Proto moves closer to the computer screen, scanning the information on it. Governor Deacon planned to hold a public speech in Central Park. Dr. Cossack would be there to make an announcement about the GAMMA system. 

Proto frowns. This has  _ trap  _ written all over it. Was this really the best his brother could do? Did they really think Wily wouldn’t see right through it?

He glances at Shadow Man, but the Robot Master only tilts his head toward Wily.  _ Trust Kalinka _ , Proto thinks. He has to trust Kalinka.

“Dr. Cossack knows you’ve cracked GAMMA,” Proto says, knowing Wily’s waiting impatiently on an answer.

“Indeed,” Wily says—not pleased, but happier that Proto is playing along. “So why such posturing, hm? It’s almost like they want us to show up uninvited.”

Proto’s supposed to say something to this too—something easy, a  _ let’s not disappoint them _ tossed off with a smirk. But the longer he’s this close to Wily, the more his throat closes up, the sharper the pain in his eye socket gets. He clenches a fist to keep it from shaking, holding it carefully out of Wily’s sight. 

He knows what this is. He can no longer keep it at bay by not giving it a name, by pretending he’s immune. It was just a small thing before, a thorn scratching in his throat that he could ignore. Wily put it there himself, a dark warning before he played turncoat.  _ Don’t trust the Lights, my boy. They might welcome you with open arms, but they won’t truly accept you until you’re just like them. What’s to stop them from tweaking that programming of yours, just to be sure, hm? _

Proto had laughed it off. Like he laughed everything off. But the thorn remained, pricking every time Dr. Light came a little too close, every time Mega Man saw through right through his act. All the doubtful looks Roll shot him when she thought he wasn’t looking, even the way that dumb mutt Rush stared at him with confusion. They didn’t want him there. They never did.

He thought he had gotten over it. He thought if he ignored it, it would go away. But now it’s a full-grown vine, wrapped tight around his throat, choking him. He had been afraid of the wrong thing. Afraid of the wrong person.

“Proto Man!” 

He does flinch this time, his hand moving to protect his face, to cover his good eye, before he realizes what he’s doing and drops it. It’s too late. Wily is staring at him, expression odd, about to twist mean at any second. Proto’s gaze shifts toward Shadow Man, but the Robot Master is shaking his head slightly.

Focus. He has to focus.

“Go prepare the Robot Masters,” Wily says. It’s not what Proto expected him to say and from the look on Wily’s face, it’s not what he expected to say either. 

“Yes, Dr. Wily,” he says, automatically moving toward the door. He slows, though, careful not to glance back at Shadow Man. He’s broken, sure, something deep within him shattered, probably for good. But he can still do this. He has to do this.

“When is the big event?” he asks, keeping his voice even.

Wily glances up at him, surprised he’s still there. “Three days.”

“And Dr. Cossack will be there,” Proto says. “With Deacon.”

“Ja,” Wily replies, irritated again.

Careful, he has to be careful. The old him could do this without a second thought. The new him needs a lot of work.

“Pharaoh Man wasn’t destroyed, right?” he asks. Too casual. He overdid it.

Wily doesn’t catch it. His eyes light up with an evil glint. “He wasn’t,” he says thoughtfully. “What are you suggesting?”

Proto can do this. For Kalinka, if nothing else.

“Payback, doc,” he replies. “Payback.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey would you look at that, turns out you CAN'T ignore pretending being a good guy didn't have huge psychological consequences when it did.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Two: Smoke & Mirrors

It’s a beautiful sunny day, the weather just perfect for a day in Central Park. To Mega Man’s left, the stage is nearly finished being set up. The speech is only hours away, and a crowd is already gathering. A few people notice him standing next to it and yell, trying to get him to come their way. Mega waves apologetically, hoping his expression matches his intent. Soon Mitchell Deacon and his security team will arrive. The Cossacks are already here, safe and secure in a reinforced transport vehicle. Roll’s within sight, in deep conversation with the security team. Dr. Wily  _ will  _ show, everyone knew that. It was only a matter of time.

Mega glances away. Somewhere nearby is the bench where he and Proto Man met. Where his brother betrayed him yet again. It feels like it was yesterday. It feels like years ago. 

After Shadow Man had left, he’d woken Dr. Light as quietly as possible, and waited until they were in the privacy of the lab to show him the eye. Dr. Light could say nothing. He’d wrapped Mega in a hug. Dr. Light had held him tight until he’d stopped shaking, but he still feels it in his metal bones, the memory just waiting to rise up and get to him again.

This plan is risky. This plan is  _ crazy _ . It has to work.

“You’ll never know until you try,” a voice behind his ear says.

Mega whirls, but there’s no sign of Shadow Man. There’s barely a sliver of dark behind a nearby tree where he once might have been. Mega might have even imagined him. Real or figment, though, he’s right. They won’t know unless they try.

“Mega Man!”

Mega blinks, returning to reality. Governor Deacon is approaching him, arms wide and welcoming. It’s all Mega can do to keep his expression neutral. Something—distaste, maybe—must have flickered across his face, because Deacon slows, his expression faltering.

“It’s good to see you here,” Deacon says, recovering quickly.

Mega manages a smile that’s only somewhat tight.  _ You tried to kill my brother _ , he thinks.  _ And I nearly let you. _

“Just doing my job, sir,” he says.

Deacon’s return smile is perfectly political. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Sure,” Mega says, watching Deacon leave. He’d give up half his circuits if he never had to deal with politics again. He knows there’s no avoiding it, not with Wily around.

**Then**

“I could’ve been melted, man. Getting sentimental, brother?”

“I owed you for telling me about the scrambler chip. Now we’re even.”

The heat from the molten metal around them blurred the air around them. Anything more they could’ve said was interrupted by the scream of Wily’s Skulker, waiting overhead. Proto’s smile faded, but he obediently leaped up to return to Wily, pausing to look down at his brother.

_ Come back _ , Mega wanted to say.  _ Don’t go. _

But he didn’t say it. Proto stared down at him, expression unreadable for a few more seconds, before leaping through the window and into the Skulker, fleeing yet again.

Once again, Mega had failed to reach his brother. 

**Now**

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Roll asks worriedly.

Kalinka’s smile is wan. “We have to be.”

Dr. Cossack shoves his glasses up his nose. “I’d like nothing more than to avoid this whole scenario,” he says. “But I owe it to both Kalinka and your brother to make this right. It will be okay. I trust you.”

His gaze sweeps over all of them; Mega and Roll, Dr. Light, Kalinka and his robots. “All of you.”

“We won’t let you down, Papa,” Ivan says quietly. 

Outside the transport vehicle, the crowd cheers as Deacon wraps up the final parts of his speech. It’s almost time, and there’s nothing left to say. Dr. Light and Dr. Cossack make their way to the stage. Rush stays with Kalinka, protectively perched between her and the door. Mega and Roll spread out, keeping their eyes on the skies. 

The Cossack bots, for now, stay put.

“Thank you all for coming here,” Dr. Cossack says, clearing his throat. His English is impeccable, his accent only slightly thicker than his daughter’s. He speaks a few more minutes about the GAMMA program, and the crowd grows restless. They didn’t really come here for scientific progress. They came here for a show, and they’re going to get one.

“I’m supposed to announce the rollout of GAMMA across the country,” Dr. Cossack says, pretending to study his notes. “But truth be told, that’s not happening. I’m withdrawing my research from this project, and returning to Russia. This whole endeavor has been a terrible mistake, and it’s my duty to rectify it.”

The crowd begins to murmur, and Mega sees Deacon’s face fall. He moves toward the stage, but Dr. Light is there to head him off, his expression pleasant but firm.

“First, I must introduce you to my greatest creations,” Dr. Cossack says. With a wave of his hand, his Robot Masters emerge from hiding and join him on the stage to the alarm. Drill Man. Dust Man. Toad Man. Dive Man. Bright Man. 

Not Ring Man. Not Skull Man. They’re somewhere in the crowd, blending in.

“Don’t be afraid!” Dr. Cossack says, motioning for calm. “You are only familiar with them through Wily, but I assure you, they are their true selves again, thanks to Dr. Light. These are  _ my  _ robots, not Dr. Wily’s, and he will never gain control over them again. They are Robot Masters, here to make the world a better place. And they will, if you let them.”

He pauses, nodding toward Dr. Light. “The same is true for all the Robot Masters recovered from that awful man. They’ve been returned to their true purpose, and he won’t twist them for his evil ways again. We should not fear Robot Masters. We should not halt progress over the actions of a madman! But that’s not the reason I am here.”

Dr. Cossack’s gaze sweeps over the crowd as it quiets, waiting in anticipation. His robots wait behind him, silent. Ready. 

“What I’m really here to talk to you about is Proto Man,” he continues. “You know him as one of Wily’s evil robots, and I must admit, for a long time, that’s what I believed him to be. But I—I was wrong. In my blind grief, I threw my principles away. I’ve spent my whole life trying to create robots who could make complex decisions, who could think and feel like people, and yet I treated Proto Man like nothing more than a machine. I let Governor Deacon talk me into doing something terrible, and for the rest of my life, I will regret that.”

The murmuring gets louder. A few of Deacon’s men try to get close to Dr. Cossack, to shut him up, but Alexei and Ivan are there, holding them off. The security team keeps the stage clear. Dr. Light’s paying them, not Mitchell Deacon. 

“I’m not here to talk to you about the Proto Man you believe to be a murderer,” Dr. Cossack says, pulling out a small device from his pocket. “I’m here to talk to you about the Proto Man who was my daughter’s friend.”

He plays Proto Man’s confession. All of it. How he and Kalinka met, how Kalinka was trying to rescue her brother, how Proto was only trying to save her in turn. It’s just as painful to hear the second time around as it was the first, but it was necessary. Proto Man wasn’t a cocky, evil bad guy in his recorded confession. He was grieving, and scared. He was a person, with emotions and regrets. It won’t convince them all. It probably won’t convince most. But it’s out there, to the public, to the media. It’s what they have to do to clear his name.

“Now you may think this is another trick,” Dr. Cossack says quietly, once the recording has finished. “And I would not blame you for it. But we have recovered footage from the rooftop, backing up Proto Man’s version of events. We have reports from the hospital staff confirming that he begged them to help. And I have one other thing.”

He holds out his hand, and Kalinka Cossack walks onto the stage. The crowd erupts. Deacon is trying to shout something, but everything is too loud, reporters pushing close, shouting questions.

Kalinka raises a hand until the crowd quiets. “I suppose it is not every day you see a dead person,” she says calmly. “But Proto Man was telling the truth. He tried to save me. He  _ did  _ save me. And the one person who tried to hide that for his own gain, who tricked my papa into faking my death, was Mitchell Deacon.”

The crowd explodes again, reporters pushing to the front and demanding answers. Deacon finally wrestles his way past Dr. Light, who gives a subtle hand signal to the guards to let the man onto the stage. Pale, his smile slightly shaky, he holds his hands out imploringly as the Cossack bots gather protectively around Kalinka and their father. 

“Miss Cossack, I beg your pardon,” he says. The crowd is yelling. The crowd is booing, and Deacon sweeps his gaze across his constituents with desperation. “I beg all of your pardons! I was merely trying to protect the Cossacks—”

“You faked my death to win political points by trying to deactivate my  _ friend _ ,” Kalinka says sharply. “Proto Man saved me, and you were going to destroy him for it!”

“I was trying to prevent a dangerous robot from causing any more harm!” Deacon snaps, losing his cool at last.

“And what good did that do?” Dr. Cossack says coldly. “Had you given him over to Dr. Light like the government originally wanted, he could have been reformed as all the other recovered Robot Masters have been. He could have been the key to stopping Wily for good! But instead you kept him in a cage while you bragged about his capture. You used my fear for my daughter’s safety against me, and what good has that done? Proto Man is back under Wily’s control. You’ve caused nothing but more pain and suffering.”

Dr. Light had moved to Dr. Cossack’s side as the exchange went on. He speaks at last, his eyes on the media cameras watching. “It’s true. The government wanted to turn Proto Man over to me, and I’m convinced had they done so, we would have been given a great advantage over Dr. Wily. But Mitchell Deacon used all his political power to prevent that. He cared more about his political prospects than the safety of the world.”

The crowd completely loses it, yelling, cursing, demanding answers. They’re minutes away from throwing things at the stage. As Deacon gets more flustered, Kalinka turns on a video projector behind them, playing a video of a nurse describing how Deacon bribed and bullied them into silence over Kalinka’s survival. Mega feels almost wobbly with relief. It’s working. They’re  _ listening _ .

A horrible sound, a metallic scream, cuts through the noise, stopping the chaos in its tracks. Mega watches grimly as Wily’s Skulker swoops in.

It’s time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, what was in the container was probably molten plastic or something, but that idea was stupid, so I'm ignoring it.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Three: In Hell I’ll Be In Good Company

“Look at them flee!” Wily says, cackling. Proto obediently looks, watching the crowd scatter as the Skulker comes closer. New Yorkers knew the drill when it came to Wily attacks.

Proto leans back and tries not to sigh with relief.  _ Don’t let Wily hear the speech _ , had been the warning Shadow Man conveyed, and that had been much harder than it sounded. It meant disabling the audio equipment while Wily’s back was turned, and keeping the old man distracted with evading the GAMMA program. It was more effort than anything else Proto had done since returning, and he felt a strange sort of exhaustion, separate from his actual energy supply. But he isn’t done. The game’s just started.

“Both Cossack and Deacon are here, doc,” he says.  _ And Kalinka _ , he doesn’t add, because she’s already being whisked to safety by Rush and Alexei, and he’s not about to point her out. “And those do-goody Lights. What do you say we upstage them?”

The glance Wily gives him is not without suspicion, but he’s too thrilled by what’s to come to cling to it. He seems like he wants to say something more, and has for the entire trip.

“Ready the Robot Masters for immediate deployment,” Wily says instead.

For a brief moment, Proto wants to hesitate. He doesn’t want this impersonal dismissal to be the last time he sees the old man. He doesn’t want it to end like this. But the heavy, alien pressure in his chest is enough to remind Proto that he never, ever gets what he wants. He rises without complaint, entering the rear of the Skulker. Guts Man, Cut Man, and Elec Man stare back at them.

“You ready?” he says, too casual. 

“I suppose,” Cut Man says, unusually hesitant. He’s not in on the plan, but he’s picked up on something being off. Or it could be the large sarcophagus next to him, a narrow slit near the top exposing burning red eyes.

Proto grasps Cut Man’s shoulder, squeezing tight. He pats Guts Man on the arm as he passes. “You two have this. You’ll always have this, don’t worry.”

He stops next to Elec Man, leaning close. “You think we can let him loose without being killed?”

“I hate this plan,” Elec Man hisses back. He’s not talking about Wily’s, not the sarcophagus, not the crashed speech. Elec Man was the only one who could confirm if the Lights’ plan would really work, and he did, very reluctantly, at Shadow Man’s insistence. He couldn’t dodge a direct order from Wily like Proto or Shadow Man could, but unless Wily knew to question him (and what specific things to question him on), he was safe. 

“Just take care of them,” Proto says quietly, moving onto the sarcophagus. “Ready for the show, big guy?”

The sarcophagus remains silent. Proto sighs. He’s done all he can for Pharaoh Man. The rest is up to the Cossacks now. 

“Time for the main event!” Wily calls, opening the back hatch. 

Proto jumps out first. He lands between Deacon and Dr. Cossack, Cut Man and Elec Man right behind him. The Cossack bots crowd protectively around the scientists, and in the thinning crowd, he sees Ivan and Alexei, tense and ready. The stage is set.

“Now don’t get me wrong, I’m sure the entertainment you’ve got going on is riveting,” Proto says with a shrug. “But what say we liven things up, shall we?”

Deacon stumbles back with a cry, but Dr. Light and Dr. Cossack don’t move. He frowns at them, barely able to resist the urge to jerk his head toward the safety of the transport vehicle. They should know what’s coming. They knew what Pharaoh Man could do.

Right?

Guts Man lands on the stage behind him, sarcophagus in hand. 

“Let him loose and get out of the way,” Proto orders. It’s the only warning he can give, and Guts Man does as he’s told, hitting the release catch and scattering with Elec Man and Cut Man. The lid collapses, and Pharaoh Man steps free.

He’s still not looking too great. Cape still tattered, armor battle-worn, his eyes glowing with the same crazed hatred they had before. Proto takes a step back. Elec Man had been able to stabilize his core only somewhat, unable to risk Wily noticing a full repair job, but his mind is still clearly gone. Bringing him here was a huge risk, but there was no other way.

“Ptolemy,” Dr. Cossack says pleadingly. “It’s me, it’s your father. Please don’t do this.”

Pharaoh Man’s eyes jerk toward the man, but they quickly return to Proto, and narrow with anger.

Well,  _ shit _ .

Proto’s already moving as Pharaoh Man charges his blaster, but before he can fire, Drill Man cuts him off, slicing at him with his drills.

“No, Ptolemy,” Drill Man says. 

Dive Man, Bright Man, Toad Man, and even Dust Man, shaky as he is, surrounds the rogue Robot Master. They’ve got their weapons armed, even as they approach their brother with open hands. 

“This is not you,” Dust Man says. “You don’t have to do this, Tomy.”

“We are bringing you home,” Toad Man says, and they start to close in. Pharaoh Man lets out an anguished roar, and the battle begins.

Proto backs away. On his left, Dr. Light and Dr. Cossack are getting off to safety. Somewhere in the distance, Roll is already engaged with Elec Man, Cut Man, and Guts Man, Ring Man coming to her assistance. He can’t see Alexei, or Kalinka, they’re somewhere safe, they’ve got to be. 

He can’t see Mega Man.

Deacon is to his right, still trying to crawl to safety. There’s no sign of his security team. He’s exposed. Vulnerable. He has nothing to do with the plan, his role long over. Proto surges forward and grabs the man by the collar, pulling him to his feet. Deacon yelps, but there’s no one to save him.

“You didn’t have to do this to me,” Proto says. “I never hurt you. I was never going to hurt you.”

“Don’t do this, Proto Man,” Deacons gasps, struggling against his grasp. “Don’t—don’t kill me. It wasn’t personal.”

“It never is. You can relax, Deacon. I’m  _ not  _ a murderer.” Proto drags the politician away from the chaos, and dumps him into a bush. He lingers, staring at Deacon for a moment, but the man was nothing to him. He didn’t matter anymore.

Soon, nothing would.

“Proto Man!”

Proto leaves Deacon to his leaves, forcing a grin on his face as he moves to confront his brother. “What took you so long, bro? The fight’s been going on for ages!”

“I don’t expect you to care about innocent people, but I had to get them out of the way,” Mega snaps back. He fires a shot once he has an opening, but it’s an easy dodge. Proto fires back, but it’s just as lazy, too wide to do any damage to anything but a bench. He can hear Wily’s Skulker overhead, but he doesn’t dare look up. He doesn’t dare let his smile lapse, as exhausting as it was to hold it.

“Haven’t you heard the news? I’m one of those innocent people,” he says lazily. “I’ve been completely exonerated.”

Mega’s frown deepens. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt Kalinka,” he says. “And you could’ve hurt Governor Deacon, but you didn’t. You don’t have to do this anymore, Proto Man. Can’t you see that?”

How much of this was acting? Proto can’t tell. His brother can really sell it when he wants to, but there’s too much emotion in this for it all to be fake. 

“Don’t have much of a choice, Mega,” he responds evenly. He doesn’t look up. “Have you ever considered it’s just not that easy to change who you are?”

“This isn’t who you are,” Mega replies, firing again. This shot is much closer to the first, and Proto shoots back in turn. 

“How would you know?” Proto says, irritated. “When have you ever tried to get to know me?”

“I’ve tried—”

“No, you haven’t!” Proto fires again, and this shot lands, knocking Mega Man into a tree. He hisses, angry at himself now. This is not how this was supposed to go. “When have you ever once tried to understand where I’m coming from? To think about how I feel?”

“When was I supposed to do that, between all the times you tried to kill me?” Mega snaps. His next blast comes too close, and Proto has to tuck and roll to avoid it. Something twinges in his chest, and he looks up. The Skulker is hovering over the Pharaoh Man battle. Wily isn’t even paying attention to him.

“C’mon, little bro,” he says mockingly. “You’re the resourceful one in the family! I knew you could get out any scrape I put you in.”

“Not always, Proto Man,” Mega says sharply. “Don’t tell me you never meant it.”

“You know what? Fine! Sometimes I meant it.” Proto dodged behind a tree, firing to Mega’s left to get him to move back, closer to the rest of the fighting. This won’t do any good if there aren’t witnesses, and Deacon is long gone. “Sometimes you really pissed me off, you know? Why can’t you just let go and have some fun once and awhile?”

He fires, and hits Mega directly, throwing him back. They’re close enough to the battle for him to see the Cossack bots have gained the upper hand, pushing Pharaoh Man back into the sarcophagus, ready to close the lid on him. Roll and Ring Man have downed Cut Man, Guts Man and Elec Man not long to go.

“Fun?” Mega spits, rolling to his feet. He fires a series of scatter slots, forcing Proto to take cover behind another tree. “You think this is fun? Do you have any idea how many people you’ve hurt?”

Proto tenses. “I didn’t  _ mean  _ to hurt Kalinka—”

“I’m not talking about Kalinka!” Mega snaps. 

Wily’s voice crackles over the communicator. “Time to wrap this up, Proto Man. Get back to the—”

“I’m busy, doc,” Proto snarls, shutting the communicator down. If the old man wanted to fry his circuits over that, he could go right ahead. He’s still exhausted, but more importantly, he’s pissed. “I’m getting real tired of this judgemental crap from you, Mega.”

“Because you never listen!” Mega snaps. “How many kids like Kalinka are out there, permanently scarred because you just wanted to have fun, huh? How many people see what Wily does with the Robot Masters he steals and decide it means all robots are bad? Do you really think none of this has consequences?”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions about how much I care,” Proto says dryly, shooting wide. 

Mega barely moves. “Stop lying to me. You care about Roll, I know you do, but you’ve hurt her feelings by pretending she means nothing to you. You care about Kalinka, but even now you’re trying to hurt her family. And what about Wily?”

“What  _ about  _ Wily?” Proto snaps. He aims to hit this time, missing as Mega dodges.

“All you do is enable him! All you do is make him worse, when you could convince him to stop!” Mega cries. “Just look at what he does! Do you really think this is okay?”

Proto breathes in, fast and hard, but his eyes flicker across the chaos and destruction of the day’s events. The battered park, broken trees and burning grass. The wreckage of the stage, and the damage the Cossacks bots sustained in their fight against Pharaoh Man.

“What am I supposed to do about it?” he says coldly. “Do you think any of this matters? Do you think anyone cares about me? They don’t, Mega. They never did.”

“I care,” Mega replies, and barely dodges as Proto fires fast and hard at his face.

“Now who’s lying?” Proto hisses, pushing in closer. “If you cared, why did you keep shutting me out? If you care, why were you going to let them  _ kill  _ me?”

“I wasn’t—” Mega has to dodge another shot. “I wasn’t going to! You deserve another chance, Proto Man. Don’t do this!”

“I! Don’t! Believe! You!” Proto fires a shot between every word, back Mega further and further into a mess of metal and debris. There was no escaping this time. “No one’s ever going to give me another change, Mega! Nothing I do is ever going to be good enough! Not for you, not for Wily, not for anyone!”

Mega jerks back and hits metal, eyes widening as he realizes he’s trapped. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” he says pleadingly. “You’re better than this, Proto. I know you are.”

“I decide what I get to be,” Proto snarls. He brings his blaster up and ready, fully charged. “You want to know who I really am, little brother? I’ll prove it to you, right  _ now _ .”

Somewhere to his left, Roll is crying out, too far to interfere. Pharaoh Man has been subdued and imprisoned back in his fancy coffin. Wily is collecting the rest of his battered forces. 

Somewhere in Proto’s blind spot, his brother is charging his own blaster.

Proto fires, jerking his arm to the left, missing Mega Man’s head by a solid six inches. Just far enough to make it known that it was intentional. Just far enough to send a message.

The blaster shot he receives in return, too close and too powerful for his titanium armor to withstand it, punches right through his body. It doesn’t hurt at first. Then it hurts a lot, his body spasming as his systems overload. He tries to reach into the hole in his chest, tries to see if the electro-bomb is still there, but his limbs won’t obey his commands anymore. His vision is already going black.

His brother grabs him as he falls, collapsing onto his knees.

“No, no, no,  _ no _ ,” Mega says, his voice desperate, his hands frantically trying to do something to fix the damage he caused. “I didn’t mean to do that, I didn’t mean to hurt you. No. No!”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Proto says, and his voice is already a breathy whisper, his lungs no longer functioning. Soon the rest of his systems would go. “It’s okay. It was always going… to end this way…”

Mega tries to say something else, tries to get Proto to hang on, but his grip on consciousness is slipping away. Kalinka has her brother back. The GAMMA system will no longer hang over the heads of any other robot just trying to exist. His siblings are safe, and Wily no longer has any more control over him.

Finally, Proto lets go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is totally not another fake-out or anything.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Four: Raw

JFK Airport is an ever busy place, but the private terminal is quieter than Mega expected it to be. There’s no more press hounding them, too busy dealing with Mitchell Deacon’s resignation and upcoming appeal of the Robot Master creation ban. They would have been still trying to gain access to Mega Man, still trying to interrogate him about the events in Central Park, had Dr. Light not put his foot down and forced them—through security robots if a stern lecture didn’t work—to keep their distance.

He’s grateful for that distance now, as they watch the Cossacks load their private airplane. The sarcophagus containing Pharaoh Man is being carried up the steps by Dive Man and Drill Man. Most of the others are already on the plane already, Ivan and Alexei lingering with Kalinka and Dr. Cossack. They’d refused the help of the airport’s robot staff, carrying their equipment themselves. It had seemed like a lot when they first arrived, but it’s dwindling fast. It’s almost time to go.

“I wish you could stay longer,” Roll says, giving Ivan a quick hug. “It’s nice to have someone besides my brother to talk to.”

“That it is,” Ivan replies, shooting Alexei a look. Alexei ignores it. “But I will definitely take you up playing a few games together online.”

“Just don’t tell Dr. Light which ones,” Mega mutters. Roll punches his shoulder, and he ducks away with a yelp.

“I wouldn’t mind playing video games,” Kalinka says. 

“You,” Dr. Cossack says sharply, cutting his conversion off with Dr. Light. “Have a lot of studying to do. We’ll have to see if any video games fit into your schedule.”

Kalinka merely rolls her eyes, and Megas has to wonder if she picked that up from Proto Man. Then again, she has plenty of attitude of her own.

He doesn’t want to think about Proto Man right now, anyway.

“It would be nice to stay in New York,” Alexei says, his gaze drifting toward the plane. “Maybe if Kalinka had taken her schooling seriously, she would have seen some benefit from it.”

“Sasha!” Kalinka cries, outraged. 

“But Ptolemy will need a lot of time to recover, and he will need his family to do it,” Dr. Cossack says, clasping Kalinka on the shoulder. “And I don’t think I’ll be particularly welcome in the United States for a good while as it is.”

“You will if I have anything to say about it,” Dr. Light says firmly. “But you’re right. Perhaps for now, this is for the best.”

Mega looks away, trying not to sigh. The Cossacks sticking around would’ve made a nice distraction. He wouldn’t be so tempted to think about how it felt to hold Proto Man as he died, how often he can’t sleep trying to avoid thinking about it. How often he fails to avoid thinking about it.

Alexei’s hand on his shoulder is gentle. “Are you all right, Mega Man?”

Mega shrugs. “It’s been a lot, for all of us.”

“Yes, it has,” Alexei replies. “And we all need time to heal. Be sure to give yourself that time. It does no good to cling to what we cannot change.”

Alexei’s concern is genuine. The least Mega can do is be genuine in return. “It’s hard, but I’ll try.”

“That is all we can do,” Alexei replies.

Toad Man sticks his head out the plane door. “Are you two going to help, or are you going to sit there and schmooze?”

Dr. Cossack blinks at his robot. “Where do my children learn these words?”

“Ivan’s movies,” Kalinka and Alexei reply in union. Ivan waves them off with a snort, moving to pick up a pallet, and Alexei joins to help him. It’s one of the last ones. It’s time for the Cossacks to go.

“Come visit, okay?” Kalinka says, giving Roll a tight hug. To Mega’s surprise, she also gives him one, and he gently hugs her back.

“It’ll be okay,” Kalinka whispers in his ear. “I’ll make sure of it.”

All he can do is smile, not wanting her to pick up on his uncertainty. Kalinka gives them one last wave, and runs off to join her brothers.

“Mikhail, I know we agreed to this, but…” Dr. Light hesitates. “I can’t thank you enough. I know it’s too much to ask, after everything you’ve been through.”

Dr. Cossack laughs ruefully. “It probably is, but I did bring this onto myself. It’s only fair I take on the rest of the burden, rather than dodge responsibility again.”

“Are you ready for what’s next?” Mega asks quietly.

“I’m not sure,” Dr. Cossack says with a sigh. “But I will try, for all of you, and for Kalinka. I cannot break her heart again.”

“We’ll be there when you need us,” Dr. Light says, shaking Dr. Cossack’s hand. And then the doctor is off to join the rest of his family, and it’s time to leave.

Roll is already chatting with Dr. Light about time zones and gaming times, but Mega keeps looking over his shoulder, back at the plane. He’s trying not to be conspicuous, and almost misses the figure slipping free from the empty cargo vehicle, climbing the stairs quickly. He’s got a duffel bag over one shoulder and a baseball hat shoved low over his face, but he pauses at the top, turning to look at the Lights.

#

Saving his brother took every bit of effort they had. His death had to seem genuine, the damage real enough to kill, but in doing so it was still life-threatening. The electro-bomb had been destroyed successfully, but it had been dangerously close to his core, and fixing that was no easy task.

The doctors had worked on him day and night for a week. Mega had sat and watched them, often joined by Kalinka until one of her brothers dragged her away. It wasn’t just the damage they had to fix. They had to convince the world that Proto Man was truly dead. That meant removing his armor, and turning it over to the authorities. That meant putting on the act that everything in the park had been truly real, and Proto Man was gone for good.

That meant making changes.

The park fight had felt real—and most of it had been, at least on Mega’s side. He’d had so much more he wanted to say, so much he didn’t have time for. Sometimes, when the doctors were resting and Kalinka was sequestered in an effort to get her to sleep, he would say them, holding his brother’s cold, lifeless hand as he made one fruitless confession after another. 

When his brother had finally woken up, Kalinka was there to hold him tight, to help him get used to how his body had changed and how it hadn’t. Mega was there too, of course, but in the background, unable to say everything he’d wanted to say. It felt like he’d been so poured out, all his emotions drained in wishing his brother to wake again, that when he did, Mega had nothing left to tell him.

He wanted to. He had so much he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. Yet again, like every other time, he’s too late.

#

Hesitantly, his brother lifts a hand and waves. Mega waves back, and the figure disappears into the plane before anyone else can notice. 

_ Come back _ , Mega wants to yell.  _ Don’t leave me again. _

But he doesn’t say anything, moving instead to catch up with Roll and Dr. Light. From the safety of the terminal, standing with the rest of his family, Mega watches the Cossacks leave, taking his brother with them.


	30. Epilogue: Plastic Heart

Christmas at the Light household was always a quiet, private affair. Maybe that’s why it feels strange to leave the country this year, even though they’re on Dr. Light’s private jet instead of public transportation. Too much attention, although over the last few months, there hadn’t been much of that either. Dr. Light made good on his word after the blow-out with Deacon’s resignation. No more public appearances that weren’t absolutely necessary, no more dealing with politics. The threat of Wily could always overturn that, but the mad scientist had not been heard of since the fight in the park. No sightings, no thefts, none of those odd little occurrences that usually preluded another Wily plot. Nothing.

Mega wonders how things really are around Skull Fortress, but Shadow Man isn’t around anymore to tell him. Probably for the better.

Russia is a big country, big enough to have to stop in Moscow to refuel. Moscow is beautiful in Christmastime, but it’s still too much for them, and they have another destination in mind. Dr. Cossack’s homebase, when they reach it, is bigger than he expects. A citadel, the scientist had called it once, and it was exactly that, a series of connected buildings fortified by thick walls and rounded towerheads that made parts of it resemble a cathedral rather than a modern scientist’s lab. Dr. Light has money, but doesn’t show it off. Dr. Cossack, it seems, does not have such qualms.

It’s snowing when they arrive. It’s Siberia, after all. Ivan and Bright Man—Vadim, he remembers, is what Kalinka named him—greet them at the bottom of the steps and insist on helping to carry the bags. Vadim, he’s glad to see, is still cheery, but stripped of the lingering stupor Wily’s programming saddled him with, his smile wide and genuine. Dr. Cossack and Alexei greet them once they’re inside. Toad Man (Yuri) is around somewhere, and Dive Man (Stepan) and Drill Man (Leonid) would be on their way home for the holidays.

Pharaoh Man—Ptolemy—was still undergoing repairs. He wasn’t stable enough, Dr. Cossack said, to be around others yet.

“How are things, Mikhail?” Dr. Light asks. Roll is off to the side chatting with Ivan, and Vadim and Alexei are discussing something in another corner, but Mega lingers, listening in on the scientists. He’s done it before, eavesdropping on their weekly chats, desperate to hear updates.

_ He’s quiet _ , Dr. Cossack said during them.  _ And keeps to himself when he’s not with Kalinka. He talks to Alexei when Kalinka makes him, but it’s a struggle. Many things are for him now, I think. _

_ Quiet  _ is not the brother Mega knows, and he can’t, as much as he tries, picture his brother  _ struggling  _ with anything. But things change. 

His brother is supposed to be dead, for one.

“They’re progressing,” Dr. Cossack says dryly. His eyes meet Mega’s. “They’re upstairs, third door to the left. Tell Kalinka she promised to come down and make vareniki with Dimitri.”

“Ooh, dumplings,” Roll says, catching Mega’s arm. “I’d like to try making those. Let’s go!”

The two of them follow Dr. Cossack’s directions. Though the outside of the citadel had a medieval feeling to it, the inside was modern and cosy, nothing betraying it was anything outside a normal home. The sound of voices speaking English drift down the hall as they approach the open door.

“You’ve  _ got  _ to be cheating.”

“I’m not cheating, you are bad at video games,” Kalinka responds. 

Mega and Roll step inside what is clearly Kalinka’s bedroom. It’s far more spacious than either of theirs, but she’s crammed it full of shelves heavy with books and notebooks, a large desk that could double as a workbench, and a surprising collection of princess dolls. That’s not what Mega expected at all from Kalinka, but she’d been a little girl once, and little girls liked those things, he supposes. But the most surprising sight of all was Kalinka sitting on the ground in front of a TV, playing Mario Kart with Proto Man.

Not Proto Man. Proto Man is—for everyone’s sakes—dead. And as deaths went, it was a decent one. The boy sitting next to Kalinka looks like he could be a stranger. His hair is black now, swept forward still, but parted on the left instead of the right. His skin is pale, much paler than it used to be. His eyes are still hidden behind a pair of aviators, but Mega’s pretty sure they’ve been changed too. His face was the same shape, the resemblance to Mega still there, but there’s no hint of his old cockiness in it. His smile is slight and cautious.

Somehow that hurts more than Mega thought it would.

Kalinka looks up and grins. “Blues is terrible at this.”

“When exactly was I supposed to practice, huh?” his brother responds. His voice is the same—Mega knew that had been under heavy debate, but Dr. Light had put his foot down, declaring that his brother needed to retain some aspects of himself, however recognizable his voice may be—but it’s also… different. There’s something missing that Mega can’t quite put his finger on. 

“Your dad wants you to make dumplings with Dimitri,” Roll says. She seems a little bewildered at the scene, and Mega can’t blame her. “Can I help?”

“Please, I’m terrible at it,” Kalinka says, jumping up. She hands her controller to Mega and hooks arms with Roll. “Don’t break my winning streak, I’ve got him ten to one.”

“By cheating,” his brother mutters. Blues, Mega thinks. He’s Blues now.

Roll looks at him questioningly, but Mega smiles and nods toward the door. He can handle a little R&R with his older brother.

Can’t he?

“Not there,” Blues says sharply, as Mega moves to sit down. He looks up as Mega freezes. “I can’t see you on that side,” he explains. “Sit over here instead.”

Carefully, Mega steps over him. Kalinka had been sitting on his blind side. That’s telling, though Mega isn’t quite sure what it tells him yet.

“I thought they fixed your eye?” he asks cautiously.

Blues reaches up and tilts his shades down to the end of his nose. His eyes are blue now, the same shade as Mega’s. “Cosmetic only. I don’t want it fixed.”

“Why?” Mega asks, taken aback. 

Instead of answering, Blues gestures toward the screen. “You gonna pick a character? I keep picking the loser ones.”

“Roll always beats me at this game,” Mega grumbles, and a spark of hope shoots through him as Blues smiles at that.

“Maybe I have a chance then,” he replies.

They play in silence. Truth be told, Mega is much better at the game than Blues is, but his brother says nothing about it. Mega loses a few times, not intentionally. He loses a few more, intentionally, until Blues puts his controller down and frowns at him.

“You might as well say what’s bothering you,” Blues says. It’s resigned, not confrontational.

Mega pauses, eyeing him. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

Blues fiddles with his controller, frowning deeply. “I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“That’s fair,” Mega replies.

Blues fiddles with the controller more, pressing random buttons, even though the game was long over. 

“Every once and awhile,” he says quietly. “Kalinka and her father spend a few days in Novosibirsk, so that she can go to the hospital. They have to make sure her artificial organs are working correctly. Sometimes they have to cut her open, and make adjustments, and she comes back sore and exhausted. She’s never going to be truly healed. And that’s… my fault. It’s always going to be my fault.”

He sets the controller down, tilting his head away from Mega. “That’s why I don’t want my eye fixed. I know it’s not rational. I know it doesn’t solve anything. It just doesn’t feel right, to be fully functional, when she can’t be.”

“You like her a lot,” Mega says, after a beat.

Blues rolls his eyes. “ _ Don’t _ listen to whatever Ivan says, we’re  _ not  _ dating. She’s just… she wants me to be better. A better person. But there’s no pressure. She doesn’t expect anything, it’s—it’s nice.”

“Do you want that?” Mega asks. “Do you want… to be a better person?”

Blues sighs, leaning back against the bed, head tilted back and staring at the ceiling. “It’s hard to just be a person,” he says. “I know what I should be. I know what you all want me to be. I just don’t—I don’t know how to be that way. I don’t feel guilty about all the bad I’ve done. I’ve tried, you know? I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry, but I don’t… I don’t know how to feel how I’m supposed to. I don’t even know how I’m feeling most of the time.”

Mega let the silence linger for a moment. He wants to do something—touch his brother’s shoulder, maybe—but Dr. Cossack had described how much Blues hated to be touched now. He doesn’t dare try. 

“You don’t have to do everything at once,” he says finally. “No one expects you to do that. You need time to heal, Blues.”

“And if I don’t?” Blues asks sharply. “What if I never get better? What if I’m broken for good?”

“I don’t believe that, and neither does Kalinka,” Mega replies firmly. “You’re not broken. You never were. You just need time to figure out what you want to become next.”

“Yeah?” Blues says, his smile almost like his old self, without the cruel edge to it.

“Yeah,” Mega replies. He looks down at his own controller, biting his lip. “You know, when I shot you—I know it was part of the plan, but—”

Uncomfortable, he stands, hugging himself, but that doesn’t make it any better. That doesn’t make the memory go away. “It felt like—it felt like I killed you. I was supposed to be acting, but I was really mad, and I—I—”

“Hey, hey,” Blues says, standing. He grabs Mega by the shoulders, still hesitant, but his grip is firm. “I know. It’s fine.”

“You don’t, and it’s not,” Mega says, his voice shaking. “Listen, I—I can’t forgive myself. For not believing in you like Kalinka does. For letting them keep you in that horrible cage for so long, for—for not preventing Wily from hurting you. You’re not the only one who feels like you did everything wrong. If I’d killed you—”

Blues steps forward and wraps his arms around Mega, and for a moment, he doesn’t know what to do. Slowly he wraps his own arms around his brother’s waist, and tightens his grip, pressing his forehead against his Blues’ shoulder and breathing in, deep and slow.

Blues adjusts his grip higher on Mega’s shoulders, squeezing back just as tight. “I’m still here,” he says, his voice shaky. “I’m still here, little brother.”

They stay like that for a while, and it’s... nice. It’s not what Mega expected, but none of this is, and he can’t help but be disappointed when his brother’s grip eventually slackens, and he pulls free.

Blues wipes at his eyes, not hiding it, and his voice is thick when he speaks. “I’ve wanted to do that for—” He stops, clearing his throat, his good eye turned away from Mega. “One day I’m gonna… be able to tell you, Mega. How much I want to be the brother you need, but I—I don’t know how. But I don’t want you to feel guilty. I don’t want that from you. I don’t need it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Mega says. He wants to reach out to Blues again, but he can see the ghost of a flinch when he begins to try, the tension in his brother’s shoulders. He drops his hand, and eventually, Blues looks back at him again.

“I didn’t get you a present,” he says apologetically. “Either of you.”

“That was enough of a present for me,” Mega replies. “Though I wouldn’t mind a few more of those hugs before we leave.”

An actual grin flashes across Blues’ face, still a smile when it falters. “I think if I tried that on Roll, she’d punch me.”

“Probably,” Mega admits. “But she might accept help with making dumplings.”

“I can do that,” Blues says. He follows Mega into the kitchen and they both join in the mess that is dumpling making. He helps clean the mess up, and he helps set up dinner. And—sticking close to Kalinka—he’s there throughout the Christmas celebrations, though clearly new to them. Blues is there to unwrap presents, and he’s there throughout the rest of the rather boisterous Cossack family traditions. He’s there to give his brother more of those promised hugs, and before they leave, Mega even talks Roll into hugging their brother back.

Proto Man is dead. His brother is alive, and Mega Man is determined to make up for everything they couldn’t have before.

Slowly, over time, they’ll both begin to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AULD LANG SYNE MOTHERF-ERS.
> 
> Look, is Blues going to need a truckload of therapy? Yes. Is he going to need a lot more therapy than I anticipated when I started writing this? Maybe also yes. Are we ever going to figure out what the hell is Shadow Man's deal?? I dunno, man, I don't have future sight, but like, probably.
> 
> Here's to the next year.


End file.
